Sweet Spring Is Your Time
by The Reviews Lounge Too
Summary: "sweet spring is your time is my time is our time" -e.e cummings, "sweet spring is your time" . A collection of multifandom one-shots celebrating spring as written by The Reviews Lounge, Too forum regulars.
1. Emily Mae

**Vernalia**

Author: Emily Mae

Fandom: Harry Potter

Claim: Morag MacDougal

* * *

><p><strong>March 1992<strong>

Morag woke at dawn on the morning of the equinox, the tight ache in her chest eliminating any possibility of falling back asleep. Her roommates were all taking advantage of the free Saturday morning that allowed them to lie in, though Morag could hear Lisa's toad croaking from behind her navy bed hangings. Without a second thought, Morag threw off her covers, dressed quickly, and draped her cloak around her shoulders before slipping silently out of the dormitory.

First year had been difficult for Morag. Not academically – she was nearly top of the class in Transfiguration and she excelled in her other subjects, too. She struggled because she missed her family. Even this far into the school year, she often longed for home, and days like today only made the sickness worse.

Morag had been excited enough to start at Hogwarts. She'd been hearing stories about the castle, classes and professors from her parents, aunts and uncles for as long as she could remember. So last September, even though her youngest brother, Callum, had wept and clung to her robes as she boarded the Hogwarts Express, she passed the train ride happily, looking forward to the Sorting and the Welcome Feast. But that night, as she tried to fall asleep in her unfamiliar bed in Ravenclaw Tower, hot tears stained her pillow and she sobbed herself to sleep quietly, her heart already aching for home.

Morag wandered the corridors, paying little mind to where her feet carried her. The castle was peacefully quiet so early in the morning. She stopped for a moment to gaze longingly out the high glass windows, the misty grey morning blurring the rolling green hills that reminded her so fiercely of her home in the Highlands.

She didn't know how the other girls could stand it. Being away from their families. Mandy received packages of sweets and trinkets from home every week, she knew, and Padma had Parvati. But how could that be enough?

It never occurred to Morag that family might not be as important to the other girls as it was to her. She had been raised and home-schooled by her mother in the same modest cottage in which she and her brothers had been born. Callum and Ewen. Even the thought of them made her sad. They had been her babies, her schoolmates and her constant companions for the better part of her life. She remembered waiting with them by the front door every evening, trying to calm the fidgety boys as they anxiously awaited their father's return from work. He would come through the wooden door at exactly 5:13 each day, drop his dragon-hide briefcase and scoop the three of them into his strong arms. Then he'd kiss their mother and they would all sit down for supper.

The memory was fond, but it made Morag's chest constrict with longing, especially today.

It was the vernal equinox. The first day of spring. It had once been Morag's favourite holiday – a day when all her aunts and uncles and cousins gathered at her cottage for a festival full of food and flowers, of games and songs and daisy-chains. A day to be thankful that they'd all weathered the winter, and a time to welcome the dawn of a new season. A season of rebirth. But today, Morag was alone, and the holiday that usually felt so hopeful only left her feeling hollow.

She eventually found herself outside the Great Hall. Though a savory scent wafted through the open doors that caused her tummy to rumble hungrily, she could only think of the fried haggis and toast that her family would soon be enjoying without her. Morag crossed the Entrance Hall and pushed open the heavy oak door that separated her from the grounds.

The pearly grey clouds seemed to have fallen from the sky, swirling into drizzle, mist and fog that enveloped the lush green countryside and Morag in their cool embrace. For a brief moment, she was consumed by the same sense of safety she felt when her father hugged her and her brothers close. But a sharp wind blew and Morag clutched her black cloak more tightly around her shoulders, the warm feeling gone on the breeze.

She took a deep breath of the cool, damp air, letting it fill her up before she ventured forth onto the grounds, her destination as uncertain as it had been inside the castle. She wandered down the lakeshore, and when she tired of that, she found herself en route to the greenhouses.

The fresh air and familiar landscape had Morag feeling marginally more cheerful as she peered through the window of greenhouse three where the more dangerous plants were kept. The first years weren't allowed in, but Morag was drawn to the bright blossoms and funny foliage that filled the front windows, bringing the smallest hint of a smile to her lips. It was only when she tried to get a better look at the reddish Venomous Tentacula growing along the far wall that she realized she wasn't alone.

Professor Sprout stood in the middle of the greenhouse, her green and brown robes and patched hat nearly camouflaging her from view. She wielded a spade in one hand and her wand in the other, a dark streak of dirt staining her cheek. Morag tried to slip away quickly, worried that Professor Sprout might thinking she was making mischief being out on the grounds alone so early in the morning. But before she could flee, Professor Sprout caught her gaze, smiled brightly and ushered her inside the balmy botanical sanctuary.

"Ever heard of Vernalia, MacDougal?" Professor Sprout asked by way of greeting, handing Morag a pair of dragon-hide gloves.

Morag shook her head. Herbology was her favourite subject, even though she was better at Transfiguration. Working with the plants, flowers and soil always reminded her of her mother who loved to garden. Despite this, Morag couldn't recall ever hearing or reading about Vernalia.

"Very rare," Sprout explained, gesturing to the pot at which she'd been toiling when Morag first spotted her. "Very powerful. And _very_ fragile."

The pot held an elaborate tangle of thin, bright green vines that had braided themselves around a supportive wooden lattice. Pristine white flowers were slowly unfurling all along the plant as Morag looked on, the fresh blooms continuing to open and close ever so slightly once they'd blossomed, as if they were breathing.

"They only bloom one day a year," the stout witch went on, heaping more fertilizer into the pot and patting it down carefully.

"The first day of spring," Morag noted quietly.

"Precisely. The petals are very delicate, but at the moment of the equinox, they become somewhat sturdier. Sturdy enough to harvest, at any rate. These will fetch a pretty knut from the apothecary in Diagon Alley, but we'll make sure Professor Snape has enough for his stores first."

Morag nodded to show that she understood.

"Nearly time, I think," Professor Sprout stated, readjusting her gloves and picking up her wand as the crystalline petals began to quiver nearly imperceptibly. "Hold this."

She handed Morag a large glass jar which she accepted obediently.

Suddenly, the blossoms began to vibrate in earnest, and one by one, they began to change colour. But the petals weren't bright like the wild flowers that grew around her cottage. These colours were unlike any she had ever seen on a plant, though she was distinctly reminded of the pearly inside of a seashell, or a soap bubble floating in the sunlight.

Professor Sprout set to work immediately, taking care to sever each blossom cleanly from the vine without damaging the valuable, opalescent petals. Morag watched silently, admiring the unique glow of each Vernalia as her professor deposited them in the jar.

After a long hour of patient labour, Professor Sprout harvested the final flower and added it to the full jar in Morag's arms. But then, seeing the way the pretty blooms made Morag smile, she hastily removed the last one and fixed it with a Preserving Charm. She presented the unique flower to Morag, thanking her for her help and sending her on her way back to the castle.

Feeling better than she had all day, Morag rushed up to Ravenclaw Tower, carrying the precious Vernalia petals gingerly in her palm. She fetched her favourite quill and a long sheaf of parchment from her trunk, ignoring the inquisitive stares of her roused roommates as she dashed back out of the room.

She ran down the corridors, up and down flights of stairs, taking turns at random until she was sure she was quite alone. Only then did she settle into a comfortable nook and begin writing a very long letter to her family. Her spirits lifted with every word as she chronicled her morning's adventure in great detail. Once she'd done that, she kept writing, asking about the equinox celebration and expressing her excitement at the fact that she'd be returning home for the Easter holidays in less than a month. When she couldn't think of anything else to write, she drew silly pictures for Ewen and Callum. And when she finally ran out of parchment, she signed the letter with her name and her love, and rushed to the Owlery where she stuffed the neatly folded letter into an envelope with the preserved Vernalia petals tucked inside.

Morag watched the barn owl bearing her package soar gracefully over the misty mountains which sparkled like emeralds in the first sunlight of spring. And in that moment, for the very first time, Morag MacDougal realized that Hogwarts could feel like home, too, if she only let it.


	2. CelestialSonata7

**The Logan Amendment**

Author: CelestialSonata7

Fandom: Big Time Rush

Claim: Logan Mitchell

Background: Basically all you really need to know to get the story is that the four best friends have annual prank wars, and this story is based off an actual quote from the show:_ "Well does your 'Lord Prankerton' say you're not allowed to make sure someone is okay?" "No he does. It's called 'The Logan Amendment.'"_

* * *

><p><strong>The Logan Amendment<strong>

It was time. They had all fought bravely last year; though James had reigned victorious. Now, this was a new chance, to claim that glorious crown, along with the historic title: Sir High King Lord of The Pranks! Everyone had been planning and scheming and setting up their ingenious ideas all week, leading up to Spring Break. Now, the day had come.

Their annual prank wars could range all over the small town of Minnesota. Being fourteen, the four boys were allowed to roam about as long as they had their cell phones with them at all times. Plus, nothing really bad ever happened in the humble town, so everyone knew they were safe.

"I know you're there Carlos! Come out come out where ever you are!" James taunted.

The war had already been waged at least five hours ago, but the boys were relentless. No one was going to give up or dare get pranked. The boys took this ridiculously seriously. This wasn't a game. This was full out war; each competitor with his own agenda, only looking out for number one. In the Prank wars, anything goes.

Carlos scooted further back behind the bush that was the only thing shielding him from a seltzer-wielding James.

Carlos wasn't the brightest of the bunch. His idea of a prank this year was calling James, claiming to be a 'Cuda' product employee, and telling him that he had won a life-time supply of hair care products. All James had to do to claim his prize, was smother himself in whipped cream. It would have worked too, if Carlos hadn't burst into laughter over the phone right before James pressed down on the nozzle of the aerosol can.

Carlos also made the mistake of hiding outside of James' kitchen window. So when James realized it was him, he immediately caught sight of the younger boy doubled over in laughter outside his window, and automatically started chasing after him. Now Carlos was hiding. Hiding from what he was sure, was certain doom.

"Come on Carlos. I'm not gonna hurt ya!" James taunted. "I just wanna show you something!"

Carlos scooted further, as James came closer to the tree-covered area he was hiding under. Suddenly there was a clicking sound. James had unknowingly stepped on a trip wire and before he knew it, his entire head and face was covered in whipped cream.

Carlos jumped out from behind the bush onto the street beside James, and immediately doubled over in laughter once again. "That. . .Was awesome!" Carlos gasped out. "You should've seen the look on your face!" Carlos was laughing so hard that he fell over, landing right on his butt.

"Ha! That'll teach you to cover me in whipped cream!" James laughed.

"But I didn't do it." Carlos said as he stood.

"What?" James asked. "Then who-"

"Haha!" Kendall exclaimed as he jumped out of the bush, and sprayed Carlos with more whipped cream. Carlos groaned in disappointment and furiously jerked the substance off his hands.

"Where do you even get all this whipped cream anyways?" James asked angrily.

"A master never reveals his secrets!" Kendall stated simply.

"It's 'magician'." James corrected bitterly.

"But it has nothing to do with magic." Kendall said. "I'm just a master at the pranks! And soon that title will be mine!" He yelled to the heavens.

"I _hope_ it'll be really soon." Carlos said as he looked to the sky. "It's getting kinda late. What time is it James?"

"6:30 pm." James answered. "Carlos is right, it _is_ getting late. Plus. . ." James looked to the sky as well.

"It looks like it's gonna rain." Kendall finished.

"It can't rain!" Carlos exclaimed sadly. "It's Spring! Spring is suppose to be happy and nice and sunny!"

"And rainy." James added and turned to Kendall. "You'd better hurry this up."

"Where _is_ Logan anyways?" Carlos asked.

Kendall developed a wicked smile across his face. "Oh he should soon be meeting with, what I like to call; Defeat!" Kendall said smugly.

* * *

><p>"Ugh, stupid branches." Logan mumbled to himself as he trudged through the forest-like ravine. The boys had a little hide-out place in here. It was away from the town, and people couldn't stumble onto it easily. Plus it was really close to the river, so they always had the sound and smell of fresh water. It was like a special haven for them.<p>

Logan looked back down at his phone and read the message again, making sure that he didn't mix something up or miss anything:

_Text From Kendall:_

_Logan,_

_War is off. Meet us at the Fortress of Solitude._

Logan found the text message incredibly sketchy and was very incredulous to it. But if this was where everyone was, than this was where the war was going on, so he'd have to be there to get everyone else out anyways. A little ways, deeper into the trees Logan trudged, climbing over fallen trees and stumps and the like.

Off to his left, Logan could vaguely make out something. It looked familiar. It was the tree! The tree that marked where the 'Fortress of Solitude' was. Feeling a sense of relief, he headed towards it carefully.

* * *

><p>"A trap?" Carlos asked.<p>

"Yep." Kendall answered proudly.

"Are you sure it's safe?" James asked.

"Oh sure!" Kendall waved off. "I stood in it myself and it only came up to my shoulders. He could easily get out."

"But you're taller than him!" James pointed out.

"Oh. . .Right." Kendall realized. He felt incredibly stupid for not realizing that before. "But still, it's not that deep. He could still get out."

James and Carlos both rolled their eyes. Then something started beeping. "What's that?" Carlos asked.

Kendall pulled out his cell phone with glee. "Haha! I got him!"

"What?" James asked.

"I put a motion sensor on the trap, so that I know when I got him. He fell in! Just now!" Kendall exclaimed with joy.

Carlos and James both let out defeated sighs. "I guess that means-" James started.

"I am Sir High King Lord of the Pranks!" Kendall exclaimed.

"Yeah yeah, good for you." Carlos waved a hand idly. "Can we go home now? I'm getting hungry."

"Yeah, let's go." James said.

"We can go to my place!" Carlos said. "We've got hot chocolate!"

"Alright." Kendall said.

"Sure." James shrugged.

"Should we go get Logan? You know, make sure he doesn't need any help or anything?" Carlos asked.

"Nah I'm sure he's fine." Kendall said. "I'll send him a text and tell him to meet us there."

* * *

><p>He couldn't see anyone. "Must've went back to the houses already." Logan realized out loud. He turned to walk away but the next step fell from under him.<p>

Logan's instincts kicked in and he twisted so that he could grab the ledge instead of falling through. He suddenly realized that he hung from a human-made hole, with a blanket covered in leaves and twigs camouflaging it.

"Kendall." Logan seethed out, glaring into the hole. He pulled himself to his feet and shook his head in disappointment at the attempt at getting him disqualified.

Suddenly, it started to rain. Lightly at first, but still wet. "Uuuuugh." Logan groaned, and zipped up his hoodie.

Using the signature tree of their 'fortress', Logan was able to point out the right direction home, and he started walking. He pulled out his phone to type a _'Nice try.'_ message to Kendall, when he noticed that he had a new text. "Guess I didn't notice while I was _falling into a hole_." He said bitterly.

Then the rain picked up. It was coming down harder; Logan could barely see in front of him. The hard dirt quickly became slippery mud in seconds.

Logan had to strain his eyes, and bring the phone up to his face to read his new message. As he was about to answer it, the ground slipped from under him again, this time due to the mud. Logan slipped backwards and tumbled all the way down a steep cliff, landing on his feet _hard_.

Searing pain shot through Logan's left ankle and he fell to the ground. He cradled his ankle and looked it over. _'Broken.'_ He deduced. His ankle was broken. He could feel cuts, scratches and bruises littering his face and body too.

Logan looked around, trying to figure out where he had fallen. When he looked up he saw the river, just a few feet away from him. He was on a small patch of land that went all the way around the cliff.

Logan then realized that he had dropped his phone when he fell. He was stuck; stuck on a small piece of land, in the heavy rain, with a broken ankle, no way to call for help, and the river. . .Raising. "Help!" He screamed.

* * *

><p>"Got you!" Carlos yelled.<p>

"Got you back!" James yelled back as he threw a marshmallow at Carlos.

"Boys boys!" Mrs. Garcia said with laughter. "Let's not waste all the marshmallows now."

"Sorry mom." Carlos said.

"Sorry Mrs. Garcia." James said.

"Yes mom, we're inside." Kendall spoke into the phone. James had already called his parents and told them that he was staying at Carlos' house, now Kendall was calling his mom. "Yeah I know. It looks really cloudy out there; like it could rain any minute." He said as he glanced out the window warily.

"We came inside just in time." Kendall told his mother. "Yeah, we're all. . .Well Logan's on his way I think. . .I sent him a text, but he hasn't replied yet. . .Yeah, okay. I will. . .Love you too mom. Bye." Kendall said and hung up the phone.

"What'd she say?" James asked with a mouthful of marshmallow.

"I can stay." Kendall said. "She said it's too late to go home now, 'cause the weather report says a storm is on it's way."

"Your mother's right." Mr. Garcia said as he entered the dining room. "It looks absolutely miserable out there. You're much safer here than trying to go home now." He said with a smile.

"Yeah." Kendall smiled back with a nod. "I just hope Logan gets here soon."

"No kidding!" Carlos said. "He's missing all the marshmallows!"

"Well maybe if you'd stop eating them he wouldn't!" James said.

Carlos looked at the bag of marshmallows and considered James' words, then shrugged. "Logan better get here soon." He said then plopped another one in his mouth.

James shook his head at Carlos and facepalmed. Turning away, he glanced out the window. "Oh wow." He said. "It's already started raining."

Kendall turned around in surprise. "That was fast!"

"Indeed." Mr. Garcia agreed with a frown as he stood in front of the window. "When did you say Logan was getting here?" He asked.

"I didn't." Kendall said, worry quickly growing in the pit of his stomach. "He hasn't texted me back yet."

"Hmm." Mr. Garcia hummed. "Maybe he went home. I'll call his house and see." He said and grabbed the phone to start dialing.

The boys watched in worry, hoping to hope that Mr. Garcia was right, and that Logan was safe and sound at home.

* * *

><p>He was cold. So cold and soaking wet. His clothes were covered in mud and he could barely see anything. He was also getting tired. The climb through the ravine, plus having to catch himself and climb out of that hole, plus the fall, plus the cold, all took their toll on Logan.<p>

Then to add to it, the searing pain that shot up and down his leg, always residing in his ankle. Logan was exhausted.

Logan lifted his head and looked around the small piece of land he laid on. He searched until he found a large branch, then crawled over to it, grunting in pain as the movement irritated his injured foot, and took the branch.

Seeing that it was sturdy enough, Logan broke it into the right size. Then he ripped off part of the shirt he had under his hoodie and, using the fabric and the branch, he tied a make-shift splint to his ankle.

Now that Logan's ankle was, more or less taken care of for the time being, he observed the cliff. There were no other small platforms to hang on to, and the mud coating the entire side made it impossible to try and climb back up. So Logan turned his attention to his level.

The small area Logan was on reached around the cliff, but dipped further down. Most of it was already swallowed up by the raising river, thanks to the constant rain. There was no way out.

Logan desperately wanted to scream his head off for any sort of help. But since his first attempts met him with nothing, Logan thought there was no longer a point. Plus his voice was already killing him because of it. He was stuck, all alone, in the cold rain.

Then Logan sneezed. Oh great, now on top of everything, he was most likely getting a cold as well.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?" Mr. Garcia said into the receiver. His face fell and he nodded. "I see. Well please call me if he does alright?. . .Thank you. . .Yes of course we'll do the same. . .Alright, take care. Bye." He hung the phone up glumly, then turned to the awaiting boys at the table. "Logan hasn't gone home yet." He said solemnly.<p>

"What?" Kendall exclaimed. "Are you sure? Maybe he came home and went into his room when they weren't looking! Did they-"

But Mr. Garcia was already shaking his head. "They searched the house while I was on the phone with them. He wasn't there Kendall."

"But. . ." Kendall flustered. "Where else could he be? He's not here, he _still_ hasn't answered my text! Where is he?" He asked hysterically.

"I don't know Kendall." Mr. Garcia said. "Why don't you try calling his cell instead of text? Maybe he just didn't hear his phone go off the first time."

Kendall quickly fumbled for his phone and started dialing, then anxiously held it to his ear, hoping. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Kendall's hope was draining fast, with fear raising in its place. Six rings. _'Hey it's Logan. Sorry I missed your call. Leave a messa-'_ Kendall slammed his phone on the table. "No answer." He said miserably.

"Well, maybe he left his phone at home." Carlos suggested.

"You know Logan." James said. "He would _never_ leave it at home." Carlos opened his mouth to say something. "_Nor_ would he leave it uncharged." James cut him off. Carlos started to say something else. "_Or_ lose it." James finished.

"Well you seem to have all the answers James!" Carlos yelled angrily. "Where _is_ he then, and _why_ isn't he answering his phone?"

"Carlos,". Mr. Garcia said. He walked over and laid a hand on Carlos' shoulder. "There's no need to shout. I know you're all worried, but fighting about it won't solve anything."

Carlos let out a sigh. "You're right Papi. I'm sorry James."

"But Carlos does have a point." Kendall said anxiously. "Where else could he be and why _wouldn't_ he answer his phone? It's Logan! He _always_ answers his phone!"

"I don't know." Mr. Garcia said, then turned to the window looking out with a solemn expression. "But it's getting really bad out there. I'm really worried."

"We should go look for him." Kendall said as he stood.

"Yeah!" Carlos said as he stood. "You're a police officer dad! Can't you like, get a search party or something to help us look for Logan?"

"Boys,". Mr. Garcia began solemnly. "It's too dangerous out there. The storm is really bad and only getting worse. Yes it's true that I could get a search party going, but not in such a heavy storm. Plus we don't even know for sure if Logan is still out there." Mr. Garcia added. "Logan could be perfectly fine, and people could get hurt for no reason and I-"

"That's right!" James said as he stood, slamming his hands on the table. "People _could_ get hurt! People like _Logan_,who could be stuck out there in the rain somewhere with no one to help him!"

"James-" Mr. Garcia started.

"You're a police chief, Papa Garcia!" James yelled. "You're suppose to help people who are in trouble! What if Logan's in trouble? What if he's hurt? Or what if he's dea-" James cut himself off when he saw Carlos bring a hand to his mouth un shock at the mention of Logan being. . ."I'm sorry Carlos." James said softly. "I didn't mean that. Logan's probably just fi-"

"No." Carlos said, shaking his head with wide eyes. "No, you're right. He could be hurt! Really badly or. . .Or he's. . ." Tears rose in his eyes.

"Logan isn't dead Carlos." Kendall said as firmly as he could, causing everyone to flinch at the word. But even he was worrying the same things. If Logan was hurt. Or. . .Dead, then they wouldn't know what to do. All four of them were best friends, they were always together. If one was gone, the rest just weren't complete. They were broken and lost. If Logan was hurt. . .

_'It's all my fault.'_ Kendall thought as tears stung his eyes.

"Kendall?" James asked. He saw the tears in his eyes, and when he turned he saw the tears in Carlos' eyes. It was near impossible to stay optimistic at this point, but he thought he'd try anyways. "Guys, I'm sure he's fine. Maybe this is a prank!" James tried.

Kendall and Carlos both looked up at James and he continued. "Yeah, maybe Logan is trying to get us out with the ultimate prank! Making us worry and scared and all that; it's just all part of his plan!" James knew everything he was saying was complete and utter nonsense. He knew very well that-

"Logan wouldn't do that." Carlos said glumly, his voice cracking. "He's too nice, and he knows better than to try and trick us like _this_."

"I. . ." Kendall fumbled. The tears grew and spilled over. "This is all my fault." He said. "If it wasn't for that _stupid_ trap for our _stupid_ prank war none of this would've happened!" Kendall leaned on the table as the tears streaked his face.

Tears also streaked Carlos', and finally James' faces but they still wrapped their arms around Kendall comfortingly. "Don't say that." Carlos said in a cracking voice. "It's not your fault."

Mr. Garcia leaned closer to the boys, his fear growing. "What trap?"

* * *

><p>"Logan?" James called.<p>

"Logan where are you?" Kendall screamed.

"Logan! Come on, answer us!" Carlos yelled.

"Logan!" Mr. Garcia called. After hearing about the trap Kendall made, it was a good enough excuse to say that Logan might be hurt. Mr. Garcia had called the force and set up a search party. Three more men had joined him from the force to help look. Everyone was bundled up and was searching the area that Kendall had texted Logan to go. They all had flashlights and rain jackets on.

Mr. Garcia only allowed the boys to search for an hour, and then they would have to go back to the house and wait for the others to get back.

"Logan!" James called as he climbed over a fallen tree, sloshing in the mud.

"Do you see anything?" One of the other officers called. The rain was coming down harder and faster. The sound was deafening, forcing everyone to yell just to be heard, even a foot away from each other.

"Nothing yet!" Another officer replied.

"Keep looking!" Mr. Garcia ordered.

"What if he's not even out here?" The last officer asked, slightly annoyed.

"I said. Keep. Looking!" Mr. Garcia barked, causing the man to shrink away and continue his search glumly. The boys were so thankful to have Mr. Garcia. He really, truely cared about all of them, not just his own son, Carlos. He treated the rest of them like they were his sons as well.

Carlos jumped over a stump and slipped in the mud, falling flat on his butt. "Ow." He said to himself as he rubbed his sore area.

"Are you okay?" Kendall asked as he neared Carlos, trying his hardest to stifle his laughter. He grabbed Carlos' arm and helped him to his feet.

"Yeah." Carlos said. "It's just really slippery out here."

"Hahaha!" Kendall and Carlos turned to see James doubled over laughing. "Your butt is covered in mud!"

"Very funny James." Carlos said sarcastically. "Let's see how you like it!" He was about to charge when Kendall grabbed his arm suddenly. Carlos looked over to see his older friend staring off to their left. "Kendall?" He asked, and followed his gaze.

Kendall ran over to the hole, hoping to find his missing friend. He fell to his knees at the edge and leaned over, trying to get a better look. All he saw however, was the blanket that he had laid over the hole that morning.

Kendall leaned closer, hoping that maybe he was just missing something. But the extra pressure he put on his hands, coupled with the slippery mud, caused him to slip and fall forward. He gasped in shock as he started to fall.

Suddenly Kendall was caught and hoisted back, being thrown to the ground. "Careful!" James yelled and he knelt down by Kendall.

"H-he's not down there." Kendall said shakily. Now he was more worried, if that were even possible. If Logan wasn't there, where was he?

"Well he's gotta be somewhere!" James shouted. He frantically searched around the area, hysterical, and panicking at this point.

"James." Kendall tried to calm him down. James didn't respond. "James, calm down." Kendall tried a little louder. Still James walked around, turning this way and that, ignoring Kendall. "James!" Kendall yelled, startling James.

When James finally looked at Kendall, Kendall noticed the tears in his eyes and down his face. He knew they were tears and not just the rain, because of the deep worry and desperation in James' eyes.

Kendall walked over and wrapped his arms around James. "We'll find him." Kendall said firmly. James allowed the embrace and returned it, letting more tears fall.

"Guys!" Carlos suddenly yelled and they both looked over to see Carlos bent to the ground, near a slope.

"Careful Carlos!" James said as he and Kendall made it over to him. "It's steep over there! You could slip and. . ." He stopped once he saw what was in Carlos' hand.

"Hey!" Kendall called over to the police men. "Over here! We found his cell phone!"

The men came quickly. Well, as quickly as they could without slipping in the mud. "Where did you find it?" Mr. Garcia asked.

"It was just right here!" Carlos replied.

"And still no sign of Logan!" Kendall yelled furiously.

"Calm down Kendall." Mr. Garcia said. "At least now we know why he wasn't answering his cell phone."

"Yeah, he must've dropped it or it fell out of his pocket." The second police officer said.

"Logan would've _known_ if it fell out." James said in an irritated tone. "And if he dropped it he wouldn't just leave it on the ground!"

"Yeah!" Carlos yelled. "He's not some stupid little kid! He's my best friend and the smartest person in the whole world!"

"Okay okay. Everyone just, calm down." Mr. Garcia said. "So if it didn't fall out of his pocket, and he didn't just drop it and leave it, then what happened?" He asked, mostly to himself as he tried to figure it out.

"Well we aren't gonna figure it out by just standing here in the mud and rain." The last officer grumbled. He turned and was about to walk out when he slipped in the mud and fell to the ground.

"Smooth Jack." The second officer said sarcastically.

"Shut up Dan." Officer Jack yelled as he stood.

"That's what you get for being impatient." The first officer said smugly.

"It's not _my_ fault Tom!" Officer Jack said. "It's slippery!" He yelled defensively.

"Hey!" Mr. Garcia yelled. "Knock it off!" He said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Honestly, and you're not even the teenagers here." He mumbled in annoyance.

"Yeah Jack." Officer Dan said as he smacked the back of Officer Jack's head lightly.

"What?" Officer Jack said defensively. "It's really slippery!"

"Wait." Mr. Garcia said as he looked down to the ground. "He's right, it _is_ slippery." He said in realization as he stared at the ground with his eyes wide.

"Yes, we know it's slippery." Officer Dan said in an irritated tone of voice. He turned to the chief. "But that doesn't. . ." He stopped once he saw the look on the chief's face. "Chief?"

"Papi?" Carlos asked. Then he and everyone followed Mr. Garcia's gaze, and their eyes widened. They saw a long trail in the mud, going right off the edge of a cliff.

They all turned to Mr. Garcia. "Call an ambulance." He said with dread.

* * *

><p>The water rose up until it was just barely covering the small amount of land. With each wave, it splashed Logan's body and face, causing him to shiver in the cold water. He was so cold. He was sure that he was going to die, if not from drowning due to the raising water level, then from hypothermia or pneumonia.<p>

Logan couldn't stop shaking, and he was getting really tired. Plus, the hot pain in his ankle was relentless. He just wanted to go home. He wasn't even mad at Kendall for setting up that hole anymore. He just wanted to be home, in the nice, warm, dry house. Logan's eyes began to droop. He was so tired.

_'Logan.'_

Logan's eyes opened back up. He thought he heard something. It was faint, so far away. Maybe he was just imagining it.

_'Logan!'_

It was getting louder. Logan tried to sit up more so that he could hear it better. But his strength only allowed him an inch off the ground.

"Logan!"

Now Logan knew it was real. That sounded right on top of him.

"H-hello?" Logan's voice was weak and raspy, and he couldn't stop shivering. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello?" He called a little louder.

"Logan?" The voice called from on top of the cliff. "Logan is that you?"

"K-Kendall?" Logan called.

"Logan! Where are you?"

"James? D-down here!" Logan called.

It was quiet for a bit. Logan was worried they went in a different direction. But then he faintly saw two figures poke their heads around the edge of the cliff. "Logan!" They exclaimed. Immediately, Kendall started waving his arms and yelling for the others. "We found him!" He yelled.

"G-guys what. . .What are you d-doing here?" Logan asked. He had to yell for them to hear him over the distance and the rain.

"What do you _think_?" James yelled. "Looking for you! Are you okay?"

"I th-think my ankle's b-broken." Logan yelled back. Then he started coughing.

"Sounds like you're sick too." James yelled. "Don't worry, help is on the way!"

Logan was puzzled by James' words. But then two more figures came into view.

"Logan!" Mr. Garcia yelled.

"Logan! I'm so happy we found you!" Carlos exclaimed.

"M-Mr. Garcia? Carlos?" Logan asked.

"Over here!" Mr. Garcia yelled to someone on the cliff, and disappeared from view.

When Mr. Garcia came back, he was wearing a harness. Then he carefully climbed over the edge of the cliff and was slowly lowered down to Logan.

"Logan." Mr. Garcia breathed once his feet hit the ground, splashing in the small amount of water that covered it. "Are you alright?"

"I think m-my ankle's b-broken." Logan shivered.

Mr. Garcia nodded and knelt down to take a look. He carefully rolled up Logan's left pant leg, making him hiss in pain. Mr. Garcia's face fell apologetically, but then switched to one of appreciation at Logan's make-shift splint. But he saw how swollen it had gotten.

Mr. Garcia sighed frustratingly and turned back to Logan. "It's definitely broken, but the cliff is too slippery for the medics to lower the stretcher. Logan, you'll have to hang on to me. Think you can do that?"

Logan nodded. "I'll t-try." He said.

Mr. Garcia smiled and nodded back. He took another hook that was connected to his harness and wrapped it around Logan's waist, clipping it back onto the harness. Then he wrapped an arm around Logan's back, while the other held onto the cord that had lowered him, and Logan wrapped an arm around his neck.

Logan used his other hand to push off the ground, then, slowly, Mr. Garcia helped him up. The movement made his ankle bite back with a burning fire and he let out a small cry of pain, quickly bringing his other hand around Mr. Garcia's neck. "I've got you Logan." Mr. Garcia said. "You're almost there." Finally, they were standing, Logan leaning all his weight on his right leg.

Logan shifted his arms around Mr. Garcia's neck and Mr. Garcia looked up to the awaiting people. "Bring us up!" He yelled. Then slowly, they were pulled to the top.

James and Kendall were right there the second Logan was in reach, and they pulled him up onto safe ground, as Mr. Garcia was pulled by Officer Tom. Mr. Garcia unhooked Logan from the harness and Logan laid flat on the ground, trying to catch his breath.

"Logan!" Kendall exclaimed. He was by Logan's side in seconds, along with James and Carlos. "Logan are you okay? Talk to me buddy." He was panicking.

Logan sent a weak wave. "I'm ok-kay."

Immediately, a pair of paramedics swarmed around Logan with a stretcher. They started to pull Logan onto the stretcher when he hissed in pain.

"Careful!" Mr. Garcia said as he got out of his harness, and he ran over. "His ankle's broken." The medics nodded and continued helping Logan into the stretcher, _gently_ this time. Then they rushed through the trees to the awaiting ambulance, everyone else in tow.

* * *

><p>Kendall paced anxiously around the room. Carlos' leg bounced nervously where he sat. James' fingers couldn't stay still.<p>

Waiting. Waiting was the worst thing in the world. And yet this place had an entire _room_ dedicated to it! The boys hated this room with a fiery passion.

Finally, Mrs. Knight burst through the front doors, followed closely by the Diamonds. "Kendall!" Mrs. Knight called.

"Mom." Kendall breathed shakily, and fell into her embrace.

"Mom, Dad!" James said and was locked in his parents' embrace as well.

Once everyone let go, they all sat in the chairs. "Any word?" Mrs. Knight asked, keeping a comforting hand on her sons' shoulder.

Kendall shook his head solemnly. "Not yet."

Mrs. Knight stroked Kendall's face comfortingly. When she looked around, she saw James with his mother and father on either side of him, but Carlos sat alone. Mrs. Knight went over and knelt down in front of his chair. "How are you doing sweetie?" She asked. Carlos sniffled, but nodded. Mrs. Knight immediately wrapped her arms around him.

"My dad went with them." Carlos explained shakily once they pulled back. "He's gonna be okay right?" He asked hopefully.

Mrs. Knight rubbed Carlos' leg comfortingly. "I'm sure Logan will be fine." She said, turning to convey her message to all the boys.

Just then, Mr. Garcia came into the room. "Papi!" Carlos said and ran to embrace his father.

"Hey Carlitos. It's okay." Mr. Garcia said as he hugged his sniffling son. Carlos looked up at him with worry, as did everyone else in the room.

"Is he-" Kendall started.

"Logan's gonna be okay." Mr. Garcia said, relief evident in his own voice and features. "His ankle is in a cast. He's very weak, and has a pretty bad fever though, and some cuts and bruises from his tumble off the cliff. We've wrapped him in blankets to prevent him from getting worse, and treated his wounds. But overall, he's okay."

The light that radiated off of everyone's faces at the news was enough the warm the heart of the Grinch himself. Kendall, James and Carlos started to say something but Mr. Garcia cut them off. "Yes, you can see him now." He said with a smile. "Follow me." The boys complied with eager footsteps, but the parents stayed behind to give the boys some time with Logan alone.

Down a long hallway, through a couple doors, finally, Mr. Garcia stopped. "Right in here." He said. "Try not to excite him too much. He's still weak and needs rest." The boys nodded. "Alright, I'll try to call his parents again. Maybe they'll pick up this time." He said bitterly, and left the boys.

They cracked open the door slightly. "Logan?" Kendall called quietly.

"Hey guys." Logan said. His voice was weak and tired, his face was covered in small cuts and bruises, and his left foot had been swallowed up by the white cast.

The boys walked in silently, closing the door quietly behind them. "Hey Logie." James said softly as he went around the bed and sat on the side of it. "How ya feelin' buddy?"

"Tired." Logan rasped honestly. "But it could be worse."

Carlos sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. "And now you got a cool cast!" He said softly and as cheerfully as he could.

Logan let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, but it itches like crazy." He joked.

"Oh Logan." Kendall said as he sat on the foot of the bed. "I'm so, sorry." He said. "This is all my fault!" He buried his face in his hands. "I should've been more careful. That was a stupid idea! I shouldn't have sent you there like that. I'm a horrible friend! I should-"

"Kendall, stop!" Logan yelled, finally getting his friend's attention.

Kendall looked up at him with teary eyes. "You hate me don't you?"

Logan let out a sigh. "I was mad at first. But I could never hate you. And besides, I'm fine, see?"

"But your ankle!" Kendall protested despairingly. "And Papa Garcia said you're really sick! And you have all those cuts and bruises!"

"But I'm going to be fine." Logan insisted.

Kendall stared at his friend tearfully. "I'm so sor-."

Logan placed a hand on Kendall's. "Kendall, I don't hate you." He said with a smile, hoping that he had finally convinced his friend.

Kendall looked Logan in the eyes. He didn't see any hate or anger, just care and worry. Kendall nodded at Logan's words, finally accepting them, and Logan smiled.

The room fell silent after that. Until finally Kendall spoke up again. "Crazy way to start Spring break huh?" He joked.

That earned a pillow in the face and he looked to Logan with shock. Logan was glaring, but with a smile; Kendall couldn't help but smile back.

Then suddenly Kendall was pulled to the ground. "Pillow fight!" Carlos yelled, and grabbed the pillow Logan had thrown and started mercilessly hitting Kendall over and over again as Kendall laid on the floor laughing. Logan threw another pillow that hit Kendall and James picked it up to mimic Carlos.

"No fair!" Kendall laughed. "It's three against one!"

"Call it initiation as Sir High King Lord of the Pranks!" Logan said with a grin as he watched. "Congrats by the way." He said with a cheeky smile.

"Plus there are no rules in pillow battles!" James exclaimed.

"That reminds me." Kendall said seriously and he sat up, ceasing the pillow beating. "New rule."

"What's that?" Carlos asked.

"That after every prank,". Kendall explained. "We always make sure that the person is _okay_."

"That's a good rule." Carlos said as he returned to his seat beside Logan, Kendall and James mimicking.

"What do we call it?" James asked as he sat down.

Everyone thought for a moment. Then simultaneously, Kendall's, James' and Carlos' faces lit up. "The Logan Amendment." The declared softly.

Logan smiled and nodded in agreement. "It's perfect."


	3. McJunker

**The World Won't Conquer Itself**

Author: McJunker

Fandom: Harry Potter

Claim: Voldemort

* * *

><p>I take stock of the situation. 400 Death Eaters on my side; 40 or 50 of the defenders on his. Potter wants to meet. Maybe he wants to take me one on one. I have no real reason to, as the odds are firmly on my side. But I can save some of my followers' lives by zapping the little punk personally. Then again, the vast majority of my servants were mouth breathing idiots. Maybe I ought to thin them out a little anyways.<p>

I go out to talk anyways. Why not? He had proved a slippery victim in the past. With one heart to heart conversation, I might instill a little uncertainty and fear in his little heart. I am a believer in stacking the deck in my favor.

The boy is overwhelmingly confident as he strode out to meet me on the Quidditch pitch. Probably because he has a friend with a sniper rifle hidden 400 meters away, in a hunting blind at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

I know this because he knows this, and he doesn't know that I know. This is why you master Occulmancy _before_ fighting the greatest Legilimens who ever lived. Most fights go like this, actually. I read what they're planning and beat them, and they mostly die without ever finding out what went wrong. It's like playing chess with a vastly dumber version of yourself.

"Ah, _Moldy_mort," he says expansively, grinning with the confidence of the class clown. His black hair hung casually about his shoulders. His scar throbbed a little, spiritually speaking.

I feel my eyebrows tighten in anger. It wasn't that he was insulting me. It was that he was insulting me so _childlishly. _I have been mocked by a higher class of wizard than he could ever be.

"Potter," I spit. "I can only assume you've decided to stop using your friends as shields and finally face me."

"Yes, in a way." he says airily. "You're a fool, Tommy boy. You don't know who you're messing with." His eyes flicker towards the Forest and back to me.

I feel a tension behind my eyes as a headache comes on. Even if I _hadn't _already known he had a Muggle firearm backing him up, I'd still know he was planning something underhanded, just based off of his face and comments. This is why people who weren't placed in Slytherin shouldn't plot.

"I am..._messing_... with an idiot child with delusions of grandeur," I say silkily. "You're just like your father. Courage before reason, now isn't that right?"  
>He glares. Watching a skinny, self-righteous teenager getting huffy is one of the funniest sights in the world.<p>

"Your reign ends tonight, Voldy," he declared coldly. "Right here." Potter waves his hand behind him, indicating the castle of Hogwarts. "We've beaten you, and you don't even know it."

I spread my arms wide and high, mockingly. "Then strike me down, if you can, Potter!" I cackle. "Show me who it is that I'm _messing_ with!" If this doesn't count as the cue line to shoot me, I don't know what would. There are times that it pays to play the mad sorcerer card.

Potter smirks. He's even cockier than his dad. He raises his hand in the hair, fist clenched. The signal.

I cast a small Charm just before the sniper takes his shot. The bullet passes two inches from my left ear, and I don't even flinch. Seconds later, a second one flies two inches off of my right.

I smile nastily as Potter turns paler than I am.

"I say! Whatever can that noise be?" I ask. "Sounds like a _gun_."

A third bullet churns up a patch of ground two inches from my heel.

"Isn't it amazing? How someone who grew up in a Muggle orphanage through the Second World War would know about _guns?_"

Potter goes even paler somehow. A fourth bullet whizzes over my head.

I half turn, locate the sniper's position through Potter's memory, take careful aim, and say, "_Avada Kedavra._"

No more bullets are fired. Potter starts backing up, shakily I might add. I cast a minor Charm that puts an invisible wall against his back and he almost loses his footing when he runs into it.

"Who was that?" I ask. "The Mudblood girl, Granger?" A reasonable guess- a Muggleborn know it all would logically be the one to suggest using a rifle. And yet, incorrect, based off of Potter's memory. "No, I see not. Ah, of course. I should have known it without slipping into your mind... the Weasley child. Like father, like son, apparently. There is a reason why wizards don't fight with Muggle weapons, Potter. Do you have any other brilliant plans to uncork on me before we meet the inevitable?"

Potter calms himself. He straightens his spine, raises his wand, and adopts a dueling stance.

"Oh," I say. "So, no then."

"You murdered my parents," Potter snarls. "You murdered Sirius, and Ron, and Remus and Tonks. Hogwarts is littered with the bodies of your victims. If you want me to roll over and let you take over, you got another thing coming."

_"Expeliarmus_," I say. He tries for the counterspell but I disrupt it. In my day they taught the finer points of dueling at Hogwarts. I can only assume that ever since I laid my curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job position 50 years ago, the standards of learning self-defense have slipped dramatically. Amazing how one fit of pique done on the spur of the moment could benefit me through the years.

Potter's wand sails gracefully into my left hand.

"Listen to me, boy. I am about to make you an offer you would do well to consider, and so help me if you even _think_ about interrupting me I'll jinx your eyes out."  
>I sigh on the inside. <em>Gryffindors<em>. So quick to take the courageous last stand, without thinking it through first.

"You and I have had a legitimate conflict of interest. I admit it. I have caused the death your parents, your godfather, your friends. I'm not entirely clear why this compels you to try to die next, but I suppose it takes all sorts. But I hope you can look past that and see reality as it truly is.

"I rule. For now and ever. The Ministry is mine. The towns are mine. The people are mine. I own Magical Britain, whether you stand against me or not. So why not lower your goals and carve a niche for yourself in my new empire? I do not wish to slay all of your surviving friends if I do not have to. Throw your lot in with me. I'll need wizards of your caliber when I go back to the mainland and expand my kingdom."

A blatant lie. Potter's power is, at a word, laughable. But he commands the loyalty of the fighters behind him. There's some decent warriors with pure blood in their veins in their ranks. Can't have an army without manpower, and this battle has bled my Death Eaters badly. Leaving Potter alive is worth it if I can enlist them.

"Never," Potter breathes. His face twists into an expression of bitter hatred. "I would rather-"

"_Avada Kedavra,_" I interrupt.

Potter slumps flat on his face. I walk over and zap him with with a quick Cruciatus curse. No response. I nod thoughtfully.

"I think he's really dead this time," I say aloud to myself. I walk over to his corpse and kick it. No response. Ignoring the screams and cries from the defenders, I kneel down and put my ear up against his lips.

No breathing. I listen for a very long time with ears that are sharper than any human's. Nothing. Potter's not faking. He had finally ran out of freak accidents tosave his skin. I was torn between contempt and genuine respect. Contempt because Potter was an arrogant, foolish, impulsive, immature little moron whose specialty was allowing bystanders to die in his stead. Respect because he had survived 17 years after I made the decision to kill him. Only Dumbledore himself had lasted longer.  
>I shake myself from my musings. I have my work cut out for me. I still need to try and recruit the defenders; remake Hogwarts in my image; root out all sedition still remaining within my new order; shift Magical Britain to a war time economy while tearing the goblins' grubby little paws off of our coin; and organize a credible invasion force to invade neighboring magical countries.<p>

The world won't conquer itself, you know.


	4. simonseville27

**My Springtime**

Author: simon(dot)seville27

Fandom: Alvin and the Chipmunks

Claim: Simon Seville

Background: This story is set in the adult life of the Chipmunks and follows the 80-90's cartoon canon. No particular knowledge of the canon should be needed, other than the fact that Simon, Alvin, and Theodore are brothers, and Jeanette, Brittany, and Eleanor are sisters.

* * *

><p>Two chipmunks sat in their car, staring into a field. They knew why he was there, they knew who he was there to see, but they couldn't support him in it.<p>

"I should get him now."

She put her hand on his shoulder, "Alvin… just leave him. There's nothing you can do about it. Let's just wait here for a while and let him spend some time with her, okay?"

Alvin took a deep breath, "Okay, but just for a little bit."

"He really loves her Alvin."

"I know, Brittany. But he can't do this anymore."

The field was magnificent. There were large rolling hills of beautiful green grass. The sun shone down across the fields, and the light cast from the sun reflected back from a small pond.

A tall chipmunk stood in the center of the field, and sat down on the grass. He stared into the fields for a moment, and leaned back, lying down next to a beautiful, female companion.

He turned his head towards her, "I brought you a flower Jeanette. I know, I know, I've brought you enough flowers, but what else would I bring such a beautiful woman on such a beautiful spring day?"

She smiled at him and stroked her hand against the flower. She leaned in and smelt the wonderful fragrance. "I love it, Simon. Thank you."

Simon turned his head and looked up in the air. "I love these days, don't you, Jeanette?"

Jeanette smiled, "You're so right. It's just beautiful."

"I've missed you Jean."

"And I've missed you Simon." Jeanette grabbed his hand, "But we're together now, and that's all that matters."

The two stayed sprawled across the grass next to each other, staring into the sky.

On the other side of the field, two more chipmunks stared at Simon and Jeanette.

"I knew this would happen. I know there's nothing we can do about it, but I almost would like to find a way for them to be together again."

"Elle, that's impossible." He put his arm around Eleanor. "You know why they can't be together."

She smiled, "Oh I know that, but they love each other so much. It's just not right to keep them apart. I mean… look at the two of them."

Theodore smiled, "They really are perfect together, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

Theodore turned towards Eleanor and gently kissed her cheek, "Almost as perfect as we are together."

Back in the center of the field, Simon took a deep breath, and began to talk to Jeanette once again. "You know what I just remembered?"

"What?" Jeanette answered.

Simon started to chuckle, "I never did tell you the story about what happened before that big school dance. You remember? At the dance I told you I'd tell you all about my day, and I never did."

Jeanette smiled, "I remember."

"I guess I'll just have to tell you now then." Simon smiled as he turned his head towards Jeanette.

"_Let's see… I've got my wallet, my phone, my keys, my tie, my coat… what am I forgetting?"_

"_Your spine." Alvin came towards me laughing, "Simon, calm down about this."_

_I turned towards Alvin. "Alvin, it… it's… it's my first date with J-Jeanette."_

_Alvin shook his head, "It'll be your last date with her if you don't stop panicking. Now, calm down, put the tie on, slap a smile on your face, and let's get out of here."_

_I ignored Alvin, "Now what am I forgetting?"_

_Theodore ran in from the other room, "Simon?"_

"_Not now Theodore… I'm trying to remember something."_

"_But…"_

_I turned to Theo, "Theodore, not now!" I continued to pace around the house, "Now, what am I forgetting?"_

"_But Simon…"_

_I stopped, "Fine. What is it?"_

"_You almost forgot your bouquet of flowers, the candy, the corsage, and the teddy bear you got for Jeanette."_

_I ran over to Theo, "Thank you Theo! I can't believe I almost forgot Jeanette's gifts!"_

_Suddenly a hand touched my shoulder and I turned around, "Simon, don't you think you're laying this on just a little thick? I mean… I'm going out with Brittany today and all I got her was… oh shit."_

_I snickered and turned around, "Oh, she's going to flip. You didn't get her anything?"_

"_Simon…"_

"_No! Absolutely not! I picked everything out especially for Jeanette! I searched through five florists to find the perfect species of violet dianthus caryophyllus for her bouquet and corsage. I special ordered her favorite chocolates from Europe three months ago…"_

_Alvin interrupted, "Well, just give me the stupid bear then. Please Simon, I need something."_

_I turned to him, "I made the stuffed bear by hand. I spent four weeks getting it just perfect. Did you notice it has her eyes? Aren't they beautiful?"_

"_Great… now what do I do?"_

_I turned away from Alvin as I looked down at my gifts… "I don't know Alvin… I have my own problems to deal with."_

"_Like what? You've got it made."_

_I quickly flipped back around towards him, "Are you kidding? This is my first date with Jeanette. And it's a dance. I don't even know why I asked her to a dance. She's sort of clumsy sometimes, so she probably hates to dance. And I'm a horrible dancer myself. We'll trip all over each other, and she'll be embarrassed by me. I should have asked her to a movie or dinner, but a dance? Plus, I don't even know if she thinks about me the way I do. Sometimes people just go on dances as friends. We've gone to a bunch of dances before as friends. What makes this one different? Just because it's the Spring Fling it's some sort of magical dance where we fall in love? I didn't even tell her I like her like that. I don't even know if this is a date. It could just be…"_

"_Simon!" Alvin yelled, interrupting my rambling, "The two of you are perfect for each other. I'm sure right now she's being just as stupid and paranoid as you are."_

"_But…"_

"_Simon… she loves you and you love her."_

"_You really think so?"_

"_I know so."_

_I put my arms around my brother, "Thanks... I needed to hear that"_

"_Simon?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Give me the chocolates, so I don't have to kill you."_

Alvin and Brittany sat in the car staring out the window at Simon.

"Brittany, I'm going to get him. It's getting ridiculous."

"He loves her, Alvin. Just leave them alone for right now. It's only been a little while."

"Brittany… we do this almost every day. He needs to forget about her and find someone else. This is…"

"Alvin, you can't expect him to just forget about the person he loves because we don't approve of it. It's not like we're his parents."

Alvin turned towards Brittany, "Save it Brittany. I'm going out to get him." Alvin started to pull off his seatbelt and open the door.

"Alvin Seville, you sit your ass back in that seat and leave them alone."

"You're sounding as bad as Simon."

"Alvin…"

"Fine."

Simon stared into the sky as Jeanette put her hand on Simon's. "That was a cute story Simon. It was worth the wait."

"You know Jeanette… I really wish we could be together forever."

"I know you do Simon. I wish the same thing."

Simon turned away from Jeanette again, "Let's just sit here for a while longer before it gets dark."

"Okay Simon."

Simon smiled and with a soft, sweet tone said an old nickname he had for Jeanette, "My Springtime."

Jeanette turned to Simon and smiled, "You haven't called me that in a long time. I wonder what made you think of that."

"I always loved that name for you Jeanette." Simon turned his head, "It was you. You always were like spring. That's why I love you."

The wind picked up slightly. "Eleanor, we need to go now. They're hardly even talking anymore… can't we…"

"I know how you feel Theo… I feel the same way… but we can't just tear the two of them apart now. Look at them together."

Jeanette started to giggle. "Well, you told me about getting ready for the dance over at your house, so I guess I should tell you what it was like over at our neck of the woods."

"_Jeanette!"_

_I walked into the living room. "W-What is it, Brittany?"_

"_Do you know where my perfume is?"_

"_I'm sorry, Brittany, I took it. I wanted to…"_

"_You? Perfume? Oh you are a wreck."_

"_I know. We're just going as friends anyway… I'm not sure why I…"_

_Brittany started to laugh… actually she was laughing unusually hard. "You… you think you two are going as friends? Jean, the two of you haven't gone to a dance as friends since elementary school. When will you two finally admit you have feelings for each other?"_

_I sat down, "It's not me. I know how I feel, but Simon doesn't think about me like that. I'm just his clumsy old science partner to him. We're good friends, but that's all we'll ever be."_

_Brittany giggled and turned towards me, "Jeanette, the two of you are practically engaged. He's walked you home from school every single day since you were kids, you two spend every day together, and you're going to the Spring Fling with him. Plus, I've seen how you both look at each other, and I can tell you how you both feel."_

"_How's that?"_

"_Jeanette… for someone so smart, you are so dumb it's unbelievable."_

"_Anyways, I'm not sure how any of that stuff matters. So we spend time together. It's because we're friends. And he walks me home because we like to talk to each other."_

"_Jeanette, when you were kids he walked you home because he wanted to talk. You stay two hours later than he does and we live a mile in the opposite direction of their house... that's not a friend, that's a boyfriend." _

"_I don't know… we're not like you and Alvin or Theodore and Elle…"_

_Brittany interrupted me, "Of course not. Simon'll shower you with gifts and love poems… I'm lucky if Alvin will get me anything more thoughtful then a box of chocolates."_

"_I think chocolates are romantic…"_

_Brittany rolled her eyes at me. "Maybe to you they are, but to me they're a sure fire way to ruin a week's worth of exercise and diet programs."_

"_It doesn't matter. Simon doesn't feel that way about me. You'll see, Brittany. We're just going as friends today."_

_Brittany stood up and walked away, "Jeanette, there's only one person in the world that can't see how Simon feels about you, and that's you. Just like he's the only person in the world that can't see how you feel about him. The sooner the two of you realize you're in love, the sooner you'll be able to move on with your life."_

_I started to cry and stopped Brittany from leaving, "But what if you're wrong?"_

"_When have I been wrong about something, Jeanette?"_

_Eleanor walked in the room smiling, "Britt, I don't think you're helping your case."_

"Elle, it's getting dark out. We can't let them stay here anymore." Theodore wrapped his arms around Eleanor, "We have to stop them before it goes any further."

"I know we should. But I'm not going to. They hardly ever see each other."

Theodore squeezed Eleanor, "Only at spring. They go all year apart, but springtime comes and they always meet here, any chance they get."

"It's romantic. Theo, I won't think any less of you if you…"

"No Eleanor. I'm not talking to Alvin. It just wouldn't be right."

"But Theo…"

Theodore interrupted, "Elle… would you talk to Brittany?"

"Honestly, I'd love to, but under these circumstances, no."

"They have a few more minutes, Elle, but then we have to go and stop this."

"Okay… just a few more minutes."

Simon rested next to Jeanette, grinning from ear to ear. "You still haven't heard the best part of my story though Jean."

_Theodore was sitting next to me. We were in my small car driving to pick you and Eleanor up. "That was pretty nice of Alvin to let you keep the chocolates."_

_I turned to Theo. "Oh yeah, it was really nice of him to give me back the chocolates and take the limo I rented for me and Jeanette to take to the dance instead."_

"_Well…"_

_I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, "I hope she doesn't mind just driving there."_

"_I'm sure she won't. She's not like Brittany."_

_I smiled, "No. Brittany's aggressive and controlling. That's fine for Alvin, but Jeanette is so different. She's sweet and forgiving, she's calm and beautiful, she's… she's perfection."_

"_So are you going to tell her?"_

"_Tell her what?"_

"_That you love her."_

_I slammed my foot on the brake. "L-Love? You think she expects me to tell her I love her?"_

"_Well I just meant…"_

"_If Alvin's right… if she does have feelings for me, she'll expect something like that… but if she doesn't, it'll ruin everything. H-How do I figure it out, Theodore?"_

"_Are you asking what me and Elle did?'_

"_It's Elle and I."_

"_No it isn't. I'm dating Eleanor, not you."_

"_No Theo, I mean you should have said Elle and I."_

"_I did."_

"_No you didn't you said me and Elle."_

"_What's the difference?"_

"_Well if… oh… never mind, you were saying?"_

"_I forgot."_

"_You were talking about how Elle and you said 'I love you' to each other."_

"_Oh right…" Theodore turned towards me, "Well for us it just sort of came out. We were at dinner, and we ordered the same thing, and we said it when we were laughing about that."_

_I leaned back in the chair, "But what if that doesn't happen for us? What if neither of us just blurts it out? Or what if I do and she doesn't say it back?"_

"_Simon, I'm no expert, but maybe you should just talk to Jeanette about it. Even if she doesn't feel the same way about you, the two of you are too good of friends to have a secret like having feelings about the other."_

_I smiled, "Okay… I'm going to tell her."_

"_Tell her what?"_

"_That I love her."_

_Theodore sat forward in his seat, "Simon?"_

"_What is it Theodore?"_

"_Can I ask you a favor?"_

"_After the help you gave me, you can ask me anything."_

"_Can we go? I'm getting a headache from all those cars honking their horns."_

"This is over with. He told us he wouldn't come here anymore. He told us he wouldn't come to see her again."

Brittany placed her hand on Alvin's leg, "Just calm down Alvin. He loves her. It's getting dark. Once it gets dark he'll leave."

"Brittany, we do this every day during the spring. Every single year when spring comes along, he stops whatever work or school he's doing and just spends every day here. I get why he wants to be with her, I get he loves her, but we know he can't keep doing this."

Brittany pulled off her seat belt. "Okay. We'll get him. Come on."

Alvin stopped, "Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I dunno. Every day we have this argument and you've never given in before."

Brittany smiled, "Oh, I'm not giving in. I'm telling you that I'll go with you, so that you don't act stupid when you get him. But I'm still upset that you won't just leave him alone about it."

"So I'm still sleeping on the couch if I go?"

"Yup."

Alvin paused for a minute, "Ten more minutes."

In the center of the field, Jeanette and Simon each began to sit up.

Jeanette looked at Simon. "It's starting to get dark out."

"Isn't it beautiful Jeanette? The sunset I mean. I could just sit and stare at it for hours."

Jeanette glanced at Simon staring into the sky and smiled. "Well, while you stare, I guess I'll tell you more about that day."

"_Brittany? I-I'm ready t-to go." I walked into the living room trembling about the idea of the dance. I was so nervous about everything._

_Brittany walked towards me. "Jean, just calm down, okay? I'm going to be with you all day, so there's nothing to worry about._

"_But what about when we dance? You won't be there for that. Of course, I'll probably step on his foot the first…"_

"_You'll be fine, Jean. I…" Brittany was interrupted by a knock at the door._

_I couldn't believe it... everything was going to come down to this moment._

_Brittany opened the door and smiled, "Hi Alvin. We're all ready…"_

"_Actually, Britt, I'm just here for you."_

_Brittany jumped out and hugged Alvin. "I can't believe you did this Alvin. This is the most thoughtful, wonderful thing you've ever done." Brittany ran back in the house._

"_What is it Brittany?"_

_She smiled, "He rented a limo! Can you believe it?"_

"_You mean you won't be there for the ride over?"_

_Brittany hugged me, "You'll be fine, Jean. Elle will still be with you."_

"_O-Okay, have a good time."_

_She ran out the door with Alvin and I shut it behind her._

"_Where'd Brittany go?" Eleanor asked._

_I turned around, "Alvin rented a limousine for Brittany."_

"_Really?" Eleanor walked into the room and sat on the couch next to me. "I never pictured Alvin doing something that romantic for Britt…"_

"_Well they're in love… it's not like…"_

_Eleanor stopped me, "Jean, you're not going to go off on the 'we're just friends' routine again, are you?"_

"_Well we…"_

"_Jeanette, if I told you a secret, will you promise not to tell anybody I told you?"_

_I sat up, "What is it?"_

"_I know how Simon feels about you… he's said it himself. He does have feelings for you."_

"_Really? Why did he tell you?"_

_Eleanor laughed, "He didn't tell me. He told Theo…"_

"_How did you find out then?"_

"_Like I said… he told Theo. That means ten minutes later he told me by accident and swore me to secrecy."_

_I chuckled, "You two are so great together."_

"_So are you and Simon."_

"_Maybe… I'm just worried."_

"_About what?"_

_I let out a deep breath and leaned back in my seat, "About…" There was a knock at the door. "About that."_

Jeanette smiled, "I sure was nervous about that dance, Simon." Jeanette closed her eyes, and felt a sudden shaking on her shoulder. "What is it, Simon?"

"Jeanette? It's time to go."

She opened her eyes, "No. I'm not leaving."

"Jean, he doesn't even…"

"Yes he does."

Eleanor bent down, "No he doesn't Jean. You know that."

Jeanette started to cry, "Please, Elle, just a little while longer."

"You're trying too hard to hold on, Jean. You need to let him go."

"That's easy for you to say, Elle."

Theodore bent down next to Jeanette, "You're right Jeanette. Me and Elle are still together, but you two aren't. He'll join us soon enough."

"Just a little longer?"

Theodore put his hand on Eleanor's shoulder. "Okay, Jeanette, a few more minutes. We'll be over here waiting for you."

"Thank you, Theodore."

As Eleanor and Theodore walked away, Alvin and Brittany approached.

"It's time to go."

"No."

Brittany put her hand on Alvin, "Be nice, Alvin."

"I know you still love Jeanette, Simon, but this has gone too far."

Brittany interrupted, "Alvin, I told you to be nice about it."

"No. He's right, Brittany." Simon stared into the sky. "It's just… I can almost feel her sometimes. It's almost like she's still here."

"I know the feeling, Simon." Alvin sat down on the grass next to his brother, "Sometimes, I swear Theodore's sitting in the room with me… but he's not. He's gone. Just like Jeanette and Eleanor."

"I still love her."

"I know you do, Si. It was a horrible day."

Simon smiled at his brother, "No. It was a wonderful day… with a horrible ending."

_The dance was amazing… well the two of you know that much. We danced every dance together, and it was magnificent, but we never had the talk I wanted to. We talked about all sorts of things, but I never had a chance to tell her I loved her._

_It was when we were heading home, that I knew I had to talk to her._

_We pulled up to your home, Brittany. Elle and Theo were asleep in the back of the car, and I thought it'd be a chance to talk to Jean alone._

"_So Jean, can we talk for a minute?"_

_She smiled at me, "Sure thing, Simon. Well this is as good a place as any to talk at."_

_I started to giggle, "You're so funny, Jean."_

"_What did I say?"_

"_Oh it's nothing. I just never thought I'd hear you end a sentence with a preposition."_

"_I did no such thing."_

_I looked towards her and continued to laugh. "Yes you did. You said 'this is as good a place as any to talk at'. Don't try and deny it."_

_Jeanette blushed, "Well… it was an accident. I get tongue tied around you, Simon."_

"_It's okay. I just thought it was cute."_

"_Good."_

_I sat there for a second. I wanted to tell her how I felt, but it was so hard._

"_Well if that's all, I guess I'll go. I had fun on our date."_

_I grabbed her arm, "So it was a date?"_

"_Not if you didn't want it to be. I didn't mean to say that. I just…"_

"_No… I want it to be one."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_Why didn't you just say so sooner?"_

_I smiled at Jeanette, "I didn't think you thought it was a date. Why didn't you say anything?"_

"_I didn't think you thought it was a date either."_

"_So, we're dating?"_

"_I guess so, unless you don't want to."_

"_No, I do."_

"_Okay. We're officially dating."_

_I leaned back in my chair. There was still something else I had to tell her. She knew I had feelings, but she didn't know what those feelings were. She had to know just how strong my feelings really were._

"_Jean, I…" I felt a firm grasp on my hand and began to turn my head. Everything happened so quickly. A car was barreling down the road towards us. Jeanette squeezed harder. I knew I couldn't move the car fast enough, so I did the only thing I could. "Everybody get out!"_

_Eleanor and Theodore woke up quickly. "What's going…" Theodore stopped. He saw the car and knew what was going on. Theodore and Eleanor both quickly began to try and get out of the car. _

_I pulled at my seatbelt but it was stuck. I don't know if it was just because I was nervous or if it was actually stuck, but for the life of me, I couldn't get it off. Then I turned my head. Jeanette hadn't moved. As the car approached I realized she wasn't going to leave me. "Go Jeanette!"_

_She started to cry, "I love you, Simon."_

_She said the words I had waited to hear since we first met. I wanted so much to tell her how I felt, but I needed her to be safe. I couldn't stand the thought of anything happening to her. "Go! Please!"_

_She started to open the door. As I looked out the window, I saw the car coming towards me even faster than before. I heard the back doors of the car open and Theodore and Eleanor started to climb out of the car._

_I felt another firm hold of my hand. She still wasn't leaving._

"_I love you, Jeanette. But I can't…"_

_There was a loud noise. I was violently tossed in my seat. I flew from side to side, back and forth, and soon after, everything went dark._

"So that's what happened?" Alvin asked, "You've never told us before. We knew there was an accident, but…"

Simon looked up with tear soaked cheeks, "There's more."

_I woke up in a cold bed. I didn't know where I was. The room had white walls, a white ceiling, and one small window. As my vision cleared, I noticed machines, that's when I found out I was in the hospital._

"_How are you feeling, Simon?"_

"_Why?"_

_The man bent down, "You were in a car accident."_

"_Where's Jeanette?"_

"_Simon, I need to talk to you."_

"_Where's Jeanette?"_

_He grabbed my hand, "Simon, when the other car hit you, Theodore and Eleanor were still getting out; they were thrown from the car…"_

"_Where's Jeanette?" I didn't want to sound cold, but at that moment, I could only think of her. I guess that's why I've felt so bad about that day later on… I didn't even think of Elle or Theo at the time. I just wanted to see the person I loved._

"_Simon, you were the only one with an airbag in that car. Jeanette is still alive, but she doesn't have long."_

"_And Theodore and Eleanor?"_

"_I'm sorry, but they didn't make it to the hospital."_

_I started to shake. "I need to see her."_

"_You're still in…"_

"_Take me to her now, or I'll find a way to go myself."_

"_Okay, Simon."_

_They put me in a wheelchair, and took me to Jeanette's room. Then they left us alone. "Jeanette?" _

_She didn't respond. As I wheeled myself closer, I saw her eyes were closed. I grabbed her hand, and sat next to her bed._

_I talked to her for a few minutes, and finally told her what I had wanted to tell her my entire life. I told her I loved her. More importantly, I told her why I loved her._

_As I sat next to her crying, I felt a short, weak tug on my hand. Then she passed on. I always saw that faint tug, as a sign. I think she heard what I told her. I think she knew it was me. Someday, I'll be with her again, but until that day comes, all I can do is hold on to the memories I have._

"Simon?"

Simon turned towards his brother, "What Alvin?"

"What does it mean?"

"What?"

He grabbed Simon's hand. "I've always wondered what that thing you had us write meant."

"You mean, 'My Jeanette, My Springtime'?"

"Yeah."

Simon rolled his hand over the large stone, "Only one other person needs to know that, and they already do."

"Okay, Simon. You need another minute?"

"That would be great, Alvin. I'll be along soon."

Alvin and Brittany walked away, leaving only Simon and Jeanette by the large stone. Simon continued to roll his hand across the epitaph. "I'll never forget what I told you in that hospital Jeanette. You know, I never prepared that poem." Simon began to laugh, "That's probably why it was so terrible. I still can't believe the best thing I could think of saying to you when you were dying was that horrible poem I wrote. You were always the poet, Jean."

Jeanette walked towards Simon, "I wish you could hear me Simon… but I loved the poem."

"You remember it Jean?

_Not cold and harsh like a long winter night,_

_Not overbearing like summer's warm rays,_

_Not strong and fierce with autumn's fright,_

_But as loving and beautiful as spring in ways._

_Our love is strong, and full of might,_

_My Jeanette, my springtime, for all days."_

Simon began to laugh, "You know Jean, I always knew how you felt about poetry. The only reason I never wrote you one before, was I was afraid of what you'd think about it. If someone else wrote it, you'd probably have a million criticisms, but I just wanted to tell you how I felt. I wanted to tell you that I loved you. And I still do love you"

"I love you too, Simon."

Eleanor and Theodore approached the couple.

Eleanor put her hand on Jeanette's shoulder, "It's time to go, Jean."

"Okay."

"Jean, why do you only come here in the spring?"

Jeanette smiled at Eleanor, "I don't know. But around spring, I always start to think of him, and I just have to come here."

"Why here?"

"Because I know it's where I'll find the man I love."

As they left, Simon began to walk towards them. He bent down to the two adjacent stones and set a flower on each. "I hope you're both doing well. Take care of Jean for me." Simon stood up from the ground and walked away. "I really miss all three of you."

"We will, Simon." Theodore whispered, "We will."

With tears in his eyes, Simon stood and walked through the rows of graves towards his family. As the group drove away, Simon stared out the window of the small car into the cemetery.

"You know, Alvin..."

"What, Si?"

"It's silly, but sometimes I really do know Jeanette is standing there."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't know… but it's only in spring. In spring I know she's there by my side. Laughing with me, talking with me, telling stories with me… I can feel her there. I know people think I come here in the spring because I get depressed around the time they died, but that's not it. I'm depressed all year, because I'm away from Jeanette. All year, I think of the spring, when I can be with her again. Out of the entire year, that's the only time I'm truly happy… when I'm able to be with Jeanette. Even if I can't see her, or speak to her, or feel her hand in mine, I know she's there with me, and that's enough. It's enough to simply know that she still loves me. I only get through the rest of the year, because I know when winter fades, and springtime comes, I'll be with my Jeanette again."


	5. darkin520

**That Loving Feeling**

Author: darkin520

Fandom: seaQuest

Claim: Kristin Westphalen

Background: This story is slightly AU, set shortly after the season one episode, 'Hide and Seek'.

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><p><strong>That Loving Feeling<strong>

Dr. Kristin Westphalen, Chief Medical Officer of the _seaQuest_ sighed heavily. It had been two weeks since she and Nathan had their little confrontation in the mess hall over chocolate pudding. She'd accused him of being jealous of the fact that she'd been seeing Malcolm. And, although he did not confirm it in words, the look on his face told her he was indeed jealous.

Oh, certainly, she'd had feelings for Nathan, and she knew he had feelings for her. They'd been flirting nearly from the moment he came aboard. But, it never went beyond flirting, which is why she began seeing Malcolm Lansdowne. Malcolm was a brilliant scientist, and he'd helped the _seaQuest_ crew many times. And he, at least, had made a move, which Kristin had accepted.

Little did she know that was the push Nathan needed. Besides, she knew she'd never be satisfied with Malcolm. He was indeed charming, but she needed more than charm to keep her happy. And, Malcolm had one serious flaw. He_ wasn't_ Nathan.

And so it was that she had to make a decision. She sent Malcolm on his way, suggesting he adopt Caesar Teslov. And, Malcolm and Caesar were getting along swimmingly now. She only wished she could say the same thing as far as Nathan and herself.

Well, getting along wasn't exactly the word. They weren't arguing, but they weren't going anywhere either. She'd practically spelled it out for him that she was available, and he did nothing. And, as she sat next to him during their morning staff meeting, she couldn't help glaring at him as she thought about it.

"And how are things on your end, Doctor?" Nathan Bridger, captain of the _seaQuest,_ finally asked.

But Kristin didn't hear him. She was lost in her own thoughts, continuing to stare daggers at him.

"Uh, Doctor?" Nathan said again.

She finally felt a nudge on her shoulder from Lucas Wolenczak, the boat's computer analyst, who also happened to be sixteen-years old. "Doc."

She wiped the glare off her face and turned to Lucas. Lucas pointed towards the captain.

"Oh, um, sorry," she muttered, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "What?"

"I asked how things were in med bay. Anything to report?"

Kristin opened the file folder in front of her and read off the medical emergencies from the week. After she finished, she couldn't help but notice that Nathan stared at her quizzically for several moments, but she tried to ignore it.

"Alright, everyone, get to work. See you all later," Nathan stated once everyone had said their piece. As the senior staff started filing out of the ward room, Nathan placed a hand on Kristin's shoulder. "Do you mind staying behind for a minute? I'd like to speak with you privately."

Kristin nodded and answered stiffly, "Very well."

Nathan waited until they were alone. Once everyone else had left, he closed the door. "Are you alright? You seem…_distracted_."

"I guess I'm just tired," she lied. Did she really need to spell it out for him? He was the problem, but he should know that already, shouldn't he?

"Oh," Nathan replied, sensing it was more than that. "Well, I was just checking. See you at lunch then?"

"That's it?" she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

Nathan gave her a look of bewilderment. "Is there something else you want to talk about?"

"Actually yes," she finally admitted, "but it seems that _you_ don't." She tried to keep her voice steady, but her anger couldn't be masked.

"Forgive me, Doctor, but I haven't a clue what you are talking about. You want to fill me in?"

She let out a frustrated groan. "I made it clear to you that I'd sent Malcolm on his way."

"Yes, you did, and I appreciate that…" he began, still unclear about what she was getting at.

Kristin finally shouted, "Do I need to spell it out for you, Nathan?"

"I'm sorry, Kristin, you're going to have to," Nathan answered. He really had no idea what she was talking about.

"Two weeks, and you haven't so much as looked me," she finally said. "I thought you cared about me. If I knew this was how things would be, I'd still be on Malcolm's island."

"Now, _you_ wait just a minute. Aren't you the one who told me that you were checking?" Nathan countered.

"What?"

"When you told me that you'd sent Malcolm on his way, I asked you if there was something else you needed on the boat," Nathan explained.

"And I told you I was checking," Kristin finished, "yes."

"And, I'm supposed to know what that means?" he questioned. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I am not clairvoyant."

"I'm not expecting you to be clairvoyant, _Captain_. But, what I am expecting is for this relationship to be taken to a new level. I'm getting rather bored with playing the flirting game, although you haven't even done that lately," she pointed out. "Unless, of course, you've changed your mind," she added, suddenly sounding somewhat dismayed by the thought.

Nathan sighed. "I'm sorry if I've misinterpreted what you'd meant. I thought that meant you would let me know when you were ready."

"No, it meant show me you're ready to commit to me."

Nathan moved closer to her and brought his hands to encircle her waist, carefully, gently, testing the waters, so to speak. When she didn't pull away, he pulled her closer to him. "Just so you know, I'm not really one for casual relationships."

"Neither am I," she answered quietly, her anger now a thing of the past.

"In that case, I'd like to move slowly, get to know one another, if you don't mind."

"As long as it's not too slowly," she warned gently. "I don't like being ignored."

He put a hand beneath her chin and urged her to look at him. "I promise you, you won't be ignored. The UEO springtime ball is coming up next weekend, and I was wondering if you'd be my date."

"The UEO ball?" Kristin questioned, somewhat shocked. "But Admiral Noyce would be there, General Thomas…all the UEO brass."

"Yes, and?"

"Well, if we do pursue a relationship, wouldn't that be fraternizing?" Kristin asked worriedly.

"Technically, no, since you're a civilian. But, I'm not asking you to make out in the middle of the dance hall," he quipped. "I'm just asking you to be my date." Then, he brought his face closer to hers and whispered, "And whatever happens afterwards will be between us and no one else." And with that, he placed a gentle kiss to her lips which Kristin returned gratefully.

And as Nathan broke the kiss a few moments later, he said, "Yes, I think springtime on _seaQuest_ will definitely prove to be interesting."

"I agree with you completely, Captain," Kristin replied with a smile.


	6. EHWIES

Author: EHWIES

Fandom: Harry Potter

Claim: Pansy Parkinson

* * *

><p>It's Wednesday evening—she'll remember that, after. A breeze plays from the waters to their faces and back again, and you can tell from the dew in the grass and the uncluttered quiet on the winds that it's the first week of April, the respite of Easter break. Girl lounges in boy's shadow by the lake and sees the way he's looking at Astoria Greengrass across the grounds, hears the way he dismisses every desperate intimation she sneaks between empty, empty words. She never would have pegged herself for one to tread another's quicksand, make any concession it takes not to be left in a room alone, but Pansy can remember every Saturday they fought and every Thursday they made up and every Tuesday she shrank herself trying to fit in his lap while he studied in the library and their pinkies linked and she prayed that she could tread on all their eggshells without cracking them, hack away her angles until she fit him, somehow. Usually she sands herself into a misshapen lump of an adoring and simpering thing she's <em>certain<em> he doesn't want, but better this, she figures, than the jagged lines and jarring splinters that patchwork themselves together into whatever she is, more crack and hole than body, slivers peeking out through the fissures in the mirror.

She doesn't recognize herself, doesn't know if she'd want to. Anyway, it's easier this way, playing the role: Slytherin instigator, reverent girlfriend—or sex toy, if Draco likes, which most of the time he does. He comes every time before she's even close; she skims light fingers over his chest in his afterglow until he swats her away, protesting sleep, and she gathers her soiled robes around her and retreats from Crabbe and Goyle's hoots and Zabini's wandering eyes to the refuge of her four-poster's curtains and comforter, rubbing herself blind the way Draco doesn't care to until she forces herself to stop right on the edge, sobbing with self-loathing and waiting out the tremors through too many hours before slumber.

This is Pansy, whose brother Cruciated and Sectumsemprated her favorite aunt to her death for sleeping with a Mudblood when Pansy was six, his voice cracking as he shrieked the incantations over and over while Pansy watched from the stairwell, transfixed to immobility and cheeks sticky with tears. This is Pansy, whose lips haven't left her same bottle of Firewhiskey since she broke into her mother's stash when she was thirteen, after Father left during summer holiday and Mother thrust Pansy's hand under her robes and said _make me scream_.

She'll put on masks if that's what it takes to keep him—better yet if they keep her from finding herself out. But springtime is no rebirth and Draco is batting her away as he etches out another sentence of his essay, poised with concentration and wholly, entirely alone.


	7. MarioLuigi4567890

**Peach Blossoms**

Author: MarioLuigi4567890

Fandom: Super Mario World

Claim: Princess Peach

* * *

><p>It had been a month since the defeat of Bowser, but I hadn't been feeling any better even after what had happened. I had still been useless during the fight, even though I had escaped once or twice, every single time I had been re captured, and even after the incident I still felt trapped.<p>

It was hard not to considering how my life was normally, I was regularly under guard 24/7, and it had been only made worse after the defeat of Bowser. I couldn't see the new friends I made (The last time I had seen said friends were at Goombatty's party the day after Bowser's defeat.), I had also been barred from leaving my room except for royal announcements.

Psh, royal announcements eh? Am I just here to look pretty and prevent the Mushroom Kingdom from going into disarray from not having a ruler? Im just a figurehead, when I grew up, all I ever wanted to do was be a great ruler to this kingdom, but it doesn't even need one. In reality, all im good for is breaking bad news in a good way.

At least I have two friends that have stuck by me since I was a kid, Blaze and Ice; they snuck into the castle numerous times to play board games the guards used to play with me. It was the only thing I was good at in my opinion. I always seemed to win at them, though I did lose a few times, the toad twins had gotten better themselves over the years.

And sometimes they would read the books in my library with me, we had recently gotten a third of them read, maybe we'd finish half of them by the time I am 90? I have pretty much given up on reading them anyways; all they do is remind me of how I'd rather be anywhere but here.

I looked at the clock on the wall again, it's about time for them to show up…10…9…maybe I'd tell them I wanted to be alone today, I kinda need it, 5…4…maybe I should try and escape with them, but then again, last time I tried that ended in disaster, 2…1…0…huh? Where are they?

I heard a knock on the door, which was unusual; no one would bother me at this time. I slowly opened the door and was met with a short toad with a grey mustache, small black glasses, and a purple vest.

"Excuse me? Who are you?" It seemed like a reasonable question to ask at the time.

"Yes, the Princess of our kingdom should know my name before I tell you what is going on." The Elderly toad said with some sort of respect in his voice, I don't know why, Im not the kind of person that deserves any respect.

"I am Toadsworth, I am your new servant, I was originally your caretaker when you were a baby but I went into retirement soon after you turned 3, you may remember me…"

"Catch me on a day when I care." I said sharply before slamming the door in his face.

"P-Princess please just hear me out!" The old toad yelled as he slammed on the door, apprehensively, I opened the door.

I raised my eyebrow as he seemed to be worn out just from that action alone, nonetheless he started telling me what he had to say.

"You see, I thought it would be potent, for the success of our country…" "Yawn…" "As I was saying, if you were to go out and greet several smaller communities and up their morale as they say."

"Wait, you mean, actually travel to other places?" This had piqued my interest. "Go on, go on…"

"Yes, and I also thought it might raise our morale even more if you went with our country's newest hero, Mario himself!"

"WHAT? No way am I going with that sexist jerk!"

"But you must! Besides, I've been told by a very reliable source that you've wanted to get away from here for a long time…"

"And just who is this source?"

"Your two friends that have apparently been sneaking into the castle all this time." The old codger said raising a triumphant eyebrow.

I knew at that point I had been defeated, that old toad would be able to use them as a bargaining chip to make me go, and he had, as long as I went on these trips with that stuck up jerk, I would be allowed to continue seeing my friends.

"May I go pack a few things first?" I sighed.

"Suitcases have already been prepared with some books for you to read and some board games since I know how much you like those, and we have enough food in royal bus to last us a week, so let's go already! Tally-Ho!" The old guy said excitedly.

When I stepped onto the royal bus the first thing I saw, was Mario sitting near the front, but there was also a goomba wearing a brown cloth that seemed to be check marking off a list, I recognized this goomba as Goombatty, but what was he doing here?

"Er, hello Goombatty, what are you doing?" I said nervously.

"Oh, Im check marking off the supplies we will need for the parties at each place, having the Princess visit is a big thing you know." The party goomba said with his usual positive flair.

"Oh…I see…" I began to slowly walk backwards away from him, knowing full well he may begin to talk about parties non stop any second, he looked like he had been wanting an excuse to do so anyhow.

I looked around; everyone else on the bus was either someone who had joined Mario on his journey (most likely tricked) or officials that would help with the setting up. I also saw Blaze and Ice sitting on the middle of the right side, so I decided to sit on the other side of them.

But as soon as I sat down a voice spoke over the speaker of the bus, it was the last call for everyone to be seated, those who hadn't been seated quickly sat down, and the bus soon sped off its destination, it was then I realized I didn't even know where I was going. I was going to ask where we were going when I realized I actually liked this feeling, not knowing what's going to happen next, wondering where life will take you, she hadn't felt this way since…that incident.

Knowing I was in for a long week I decided to just look outside and take in the view of the countryside, it was wonderful, I had never seen anything so beautiful, eventually, I got tired of focusing on one thing and decided to close my eyes, and wait until we get there.

I think about 15 minutes passed before we came to a stop. I was surprised at how fast we reached our destination; the first town must not have been that far off. Everyone slowly got off, me and the sexist pig sharing a glare when we spotted each other.

The first thing I noticed about the town is that it looked a lot less grand than the one she saw out her window. But more important than that, there was a structure in the middle of town that has a podium on it, and a banner above it said "Royal Tour". Why not advertise it to the whole world why don't ya?

"Hmph, I guess your enjoying the attention?" Rang a voice I hated incredibly from besides me.

"Get bent." I snapped at the jerk.

"Princess, this way, we must discuss what we are going to be talking about." An old voice declared beside me.

"Yeah…sure." I was clearly not excited about it as I walked along, but he didn't seem to care.

People seemed to stare at me in awe as I walked past, was it really so unusual for a princess to be outside her castle? I wish they would stop staring, maybe going outside wasn't such a good idea.

My entire life all the announcements I made had been in front of a camera. The one other time I had been out in public everyone had been to preoccupied to pay attention to me. I suppose, I liked it better that way.

As I walked into the main building, the first thing I noticed was that Christy and Goombatty were already setting up, Christy seemed to keep on correcting what Goombatty was doing, while Goombatty was just wanting the place to be wild all over.

I decided to leave them alone; they seemed to be having a heated argument on what the party favors should be. I could swear I heard the word cupcakes being screamed over and over again.

It didn't take long to set things up. Though I must admit it was a pain having to work with that jerk, first we got into an argument, and then we started throwing glass plates at each other, over all it was very unproductive.

Once we finished cleaning up the mess, the old toad exclaimed something suddenly. "Oh dear me! Look at the time! We have to get up to the podium."

Oh no…what I was dreading most, speaking in front of all those people. It was easy when you were talking to a camera, but when you are talking to a whole bunch of people who can actually see you face to face, that's another story.

"Now remember princess, you are just to answer the questions asked to you by your audience, and if you have to break any bad news, be sure to look like everything will be all right." The old codger reminded me.

"Erm, yeah, I will…" I wasn't looking well though, as I walked outside to the podium with everyone else, I could feel my pulse racing, and I began sweating and shaking all over. I had never spoken in front of a group before, it felt unnatural for me.

The old toad came up to the podium and began the introductions. "As most of you know, the princess of our kingdom and the heroes who rescued her are going to be speaking throughout the towns of the mushroom kingdom, and not only that, but this will be broadcast throughout the entire world." At this I visibly blanched, I was beginning to feel faint.

"Now here's our first speaker! Princess Peach herself, feel free to ask her any questions you want!" I slowly walked up to the podium and for about a second and a half I thought this might be easy because all they were doing were staring at me, but then the questions came. All at once people asked me questions and I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I was being bombarded with more and more questions and I felt helpless, more helpless than I had ever felt in my life.

Not even when I was kidnapped by that reptile was I ever this helpless. I knew my way around the castle. I could escape on my own, it's staying escaped that's the hard part.

I tried to say something, anything. But words seemed to fail me, and all of a sudden everything became blurry, I was tired, and I wanted this to stop, and then I blacked out.

XXXXX

I was in blackness, I saw the image of a book, a book with a mysterious figure on it, it opened and many images swamped into my mind, the image of an escape I made, the image of some friends I made, the image of my father, and a doctor's office, and the funeral…so many images came flooding back and then a spot of red, where could it have come from?

That was the moment I woke up, and saw the red plumber sitting beside me, I was sitting in a polka dot bed, and it seemed everyone was waiting for me to wake up.

"What happened?" I said, though inside I knew what happened. I had messed it up somehow.

The red plumber remained silent; the party goomba was the first to speak up. "You were all pale and shaky, and you opened your mouth but no words came out, and then you sorta just slumped, and we were all really scared for you and, and, and…" But then before he went on he began crying. "I thought you were really hurt! We all did!"

"I, I am all right. I just have trouble with all the attention I guess…"

"I thought you enjoyed the attention? A princess like you would certainly-" The red plumber began, but I cut him off.

"SHUT UP! How could you understand, you don't know what I've gone through, and you never will! So just leave me alone!" I jumped out of bed and ran, ran as fast as I could, not caring to look where I was going, not that I could, with the tears covering my eyes.

When I finally stopped crying, I was in some kind of forest. I had apparently run out of the village. I had no idea where I was, I was scared, and hungry as well.

"Hello? Anyone there?" I cried out, but I knew it was a fruitless attempt, the entire place was quiet.

I continued walking along, trying to keep away from the darker part of the forests, suddenly I heard a voice. "Heh, how great is it that you've fallen into my hiding place?"

I whirled around to look at who had spoken. "Don't you remember me? Or are you really that stupid?" "Of course I remembered you, when I escaped from the castle the first time after the reptile had captured it, you were the one who came to catch me, and your name was Identlemen, was it not?"

"Indeed, and how lucky that after our rule was brought down, you of all people, would wonder into my hiding place. I still have a new weapon sphere, I think I will rough you up a bit, then I will use you as bait to take care of those fools once and for all!"

"…Oh crap." "Now how about I scare you a bit, maybe with this flame sword!" At that moment he changed the sphere into a flame sword, he used it to send flames behind me so I couldn't escape out into the forest.

"Now, princess, this way…" But I wasn't looking at him, I was looking at the chaos he was causing, how could anyone do this to the poor animals of the forest? They didn't know of what was going on, why should they be punished, I looked at the shape shifter with fury. I tried to launch a punch at him. But he quickly dodged and kneed me in the stomach.

He spat at me and tossed me aside. What was I thinking? I can't fight, Im not experienced at it at all. And not to mention I've pretty much been a pacifist all my life, it was just this one moment of fury that left me open. I could have been more focused; I could have found a way to escape…

I looked around at what inspired my fury, the fire steadily growing stronger. That's when I got an idea! If I could manage to get him trapped in his own fire, maybe just somehow, I could escape.

I slowly got to my feet. I knew this was all or nothing, I stepped forward with difficulty and began running around him. "Stand still! Or I'll fry you!" I heard him scream at me, however that's what I intended. From previous experience I knew he had bad aim, it wasn't long before the fire had nearly surrounded us. However I knew I only had one chance to escape, I ran for the only place that didn't have any fire, but no sooner did I reach it, than a fire erupted in front of me!

"I see what your plan was now…if this is your game, I will take us both down." He said with a very deadly tone in his voice. I knew it, nothing I ever do ends up working right; maybe I am safer just in the castle. The fire was slowly closing in, it was getting hotter and hotter and I was starting to sweat all over, I felt like I was dying, but my body just refused to give in, the smoke was beginning to make me cough, and all the while the shape shifting Koopa just had a maniacal smile on his face.

"Enjoying the heat?" "…" "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" "…cough…" But at that moment a figure jumped over to beside me, grabbed me, and we flew over the flames, I looked over at who had grabbed me, and was surprised to see it was that red plumber I hated so much.

"WHAT? D-Damn you! Damn you all!" Were the last words I heard before I passed out.

XXXXX

"Wake up, wake up!" I heard the familiar voice call out to me; I slowly opened my eyes and found my self in a more colorful section of the forest. I looked closely and saw that the reason it was so colorful was because of some trees that were sprouting beautiful flowers…I could swear I've seen these in a book somewhere…

"You're amazed huh? These are called Peach Blossoms, and considering what you did today, it's the perfect metaphor for what you've proven to me."

"Proven, what exactly have I proven?"

"You've proven to me that even the most stubborn of flowers may soon bloom and find their purpose, when I first met you, I thought you were just the average damsel in distress, but you've proven to me that your capable of thinking on your feet, and even in the face of danger, you don't seem to be afraid, it's like you don't value your own life or something…"

I blushed at those words; he looked down at me with reassurance. "I didn't mean it like that, it's just-"

"No, you hit the nail on the head perfectly, until a few moments ago, I didn't know whether I even had a purpose in this world, but now, I think I do. It might take a little convincing on Toadworth's side though. Heh…"

"Hey, you laughed, that's a good start on feeling better, come on, let's get back to the village, I am sure they are worried."

"Right…" Somehow, I knew from then on, everything was going to be ok. No matter what troubles I may face, if I just remember his words, everything will be alright.

The end…


	8. Esther A2J

**Healing**

Author: Esther A2J

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings

Claim: Eowyn

* * *

><p>"<em>Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy." - Thich Nhat Hanh<em>

"_All healing is first a healing of the heart." - Carl Townsend_

I watched the Tree slowly come back to life as did I. When I first arrived in the guest rooms—my body and heart broken—the Tree was bare and bereft of life. As the pain of my wounds receded, I left my bed to walk in the gardens, and one morning I saw tiny buds upon the white branches. Hope rose up within me and I decided that, no matter if Aragorn loved me or not, I would live.

I first met Faramir there, in the gardens. I could see in his eyes that he was as broken as I, and the kinship of pain brought us together as friends. We walked among the plants and trees, slowed by our battle wounds, and I told him many things—things I'd not told anyone before. I told him of Grima, and of Aragorn; he told me of his father and of his brother. We found ourselves holding hands while we walked, reaching out for what comfort the other could give.

Every day, the buds upon the Tree were larger, and soon they began to unfurl. I watched with a growing gladness in my heart as, for the first time in an age, the White Tree of Gondor burst into bloom. That day, we gathered on the heights to see Aragorn crowned King, and my heart shrank within me when he claimed the Elf princess Arwen as his bride. But Faramir stood with me and, as Aragorn swept Arwen into his arms, Faramir took my hand, and I knew that if I let him, he would be there for me for the rest of our lives. With a last small sigh, I turned my back on the man I had loved and smiled at the man who loved me.


	9. Inkfire

**Equinox**

Author: Inkfire

Fandom: Skins

Claim: Cassie Ainsworth

* * *

><p>It is drawing nearer.<p>

She can feel it in the air. A different scent, a different shade to the sky beneath the clouds, a few notes of fluttering birdsong. _Springtime is coming,_ they say, laughing loudly.

_Lovely,_ Cassie thinks.

For a few seconds, it makes her smile.

* * *

><p>Spring means a new beginning. The trees know it, the animals know it and the people know it.<p>

It is rather silly, come to consider it, as the entire world and every ticking-by second are made of endings and beginnings. Spring is the end of winter, of the bitter cold biting her hands and slipping between her bones, of the rare, shockingly white snow that turned dirty under people's feet. All things pure come to an end – she won't regret it that much though, for Cassie can't really call herself pure either (_She wishes. She tries._) and winter was mostly eating at her strength.

It's just another season passing by.

* * *

><p>Ten days to spring. Nine days, twenty hours and about forty minutes of carefully-counted nonsense. It's funny, that she must be the only one in the world who does this (<em>Is she? Is she really? Well, what does it change?<em>). It's funnier than it's sad, as far as she can tell. It's her secret anyway, and you don't share secrets. Sometimes she wants to, but she should hold back – you never know what might be used against you, after all.

Cassie counts time, that's what she does, keeps cautiously track of it as it trickles between her white fingers and fades away. Twenty-seven more minutes of sitting in class, two hours and a half to facing lunch and ten more to go before she can curl up in bed and be done with it all. Every second of her life is weighed and assessed before she eventually gets through, smiling like she's a girl of the carefree kind – _absolutely_ not hunched-up in fear within.

In fact, if she's quite honest with herself, Cassie cares little about spring, let alone the exact date, which might turn out cold and rainy for all she knows. It's the idea of spring that keeps her going – sunlight and pretty clouds and birds and hope and winter being over, all those childish, fragile, lovely things. Seasons fly by one after the other and at the end of the day, somehow, she's still standing.

Sweet victory.

* * *

><p>Spring knocks at her door in the shape of a bunch of friends – who actually <em>want<em> her with them, _wow _– and Jal tells her "Come on Cass, take off a few layers. It's so warm outside."

Jal is lovely and a very good friend – sometimes she's even insightful, too insightful, and it makes Cassie's stomach twist and flutter because she doesn't want to be noticed, but she does, she does. It's like Jal sees her as a whole, peering past layers and edges of a fumbling, confused mess that somehow shapes Cassandra Ainsworth – and she can't fool her with a large smile and a quickly-thrown question, can't pretend that she's oh, so _fine_, so_ lovely_. It's unnerving – it's unsettling, that's all. It's okay as long as she's not the main object of the focus, mostly. She is today – and she tries to laugh it off, fingers curled protectively around the edges of her jacket, but Jal nods and Michelle smiles, then before she knows it she's being hauled into the street, laughter swirling around her ears and hands pulling on her bare arms.

At that point Jal can go burn in hell and take the warmth, the spring, her knowing smile and Michelle with her daring necklines alongside her, as far as Cassie is concerned. She's not cold, she can't really pretend she is – although she's so good at lying by now that she almost wants to try – but her skin glows a striking white under the sunlight, laid bare, outlandishly pale and obscenely conspicuous. Delicate veins swirl in green-blue patterns across fragile limbs, and her friends' fingers cling to her, oddly hot, way too tight. Her throat is too tight as well, her eyes searing; if she looks down, her shape will shift and swell, like it always does – always. The sensation is as familiar as it is unreliable; it's not like she can ever really keep track of who she is, tell the difference between lovely and appalling, or control the swings in her self-awareness that leave her dizzy and confused with her heart on her lips. She feels, however, that this very moment falls into the _unbearable_ category, her friends' voices ringing through her brain, ricocheting within her hollow ribcage as their gazes scorch her pale skin, stripped bare for all the world to see. The sheer idea of revealing just a bit of herself, something as shallow as a pair of white, naked arms – just a hint of _fragility_ – feels enormous; what she's giving away is personal, a little shameful, it's like letting her guard down and her protection slip away. The slight wind is blowing right through her – let her huddle. Let her hide.

Cassie struggles, breaking free from the girls' grasp and leaping back with her arms automatically wrapping themselves around her chest, holding tight; she does her best, truly, to keep up the pretence, but her voice shoots up two octaves over the word _fine_, and they're not buying it, she can tell. The sun makes her hair shine so blindingly, though it's a little limp, a little dull; it's still too bright for the likes of Cassie, a corona of mangled light that means nothing lovely at all.

Spring might just turn out to be something else she'll need to lie her way out of, she realizes – with a fleeting taste of panic upon her tongue.

* * *

><p>Of course spring is also the season for love. She couldn't really forget that, could she? Obviously not.<p>

Birds are singing, girls are giggling and cheeks colour brightly, aflame with newly-born feelings – it is sweet, foreign and refreshing, almost like growing into a brand new being. Beginnings, beginnings – maybe they can be something, Sid and her. Maybe they can be lovely, with shyness and fluttering hearts, maybe she can trust again – so many maybes. Maybe the time is just right and everything's going to fall into place. Somehow, Cassie finds herself believing in fate again, finding little signs. (_Look up if you like me. Please, please, look up if you like me._)

She can make it: a huge smile and a little push in the right direction, and she'll forget his awkwardness, the little jerk he can be sometimes when she doesn't seem to be the person he wants to see, she'll call it bashfulness, deem it endearing, blur the lines a little more. The time will come for her after all, it can, it has – and she'll be loved.

_Wake up, Sid,_ she thinks, _wake up and see me, wake up and see me_. But he sees Michelle everywhere, and after a while, so does she. The whole world is full of Michelle, beautiful and strong, everybody wants her. Michelle is alive and Michelle is life: Cassie sees her in random faces on the streets, in flashes at the corners of her mirror, all the time. Sid fancies her – _but he really loves Michelle_.

It's everyone's story, and it's everyone's cliché. Michelle is beautiful and everybody loves her; Sid is stupid, he can't see what he has, what he might have, until it's slipping right between his fingers. Cassie's story is a stupid teenage romance – she's not what he wants – it is plain, harsh, simple, just something more that she cannot have. She doesn't have anything, anyway, and yes, yes – it's too much.

It has to stop.

* * *

><p>Spring is there, and she wakes up with a taste of death in her mouth.<p>

Everything is whiteness and bright lights, and she could almost think _wow, maybe this is heaven,_ but she knows better. Heaven is less blinding, or so she hopes, it doesn't have annoying beeping sounds and as far as she's aware, Jal isn't supposed to be there – squeezing her hands and actually crying, on top of that. Things definitely didn't go according to plan, and through the haziness she doesn't know whether to be relieved, or angry, or scared, or everything at the same time. She's just really, immensely tired, so she settles for feeling nothing, and allows her eyes to drift closed again, for now.

The darkness welcomes her, familiar and lurking with not-so-restful thoughts as her brain stirs and becomes more alert. It had taken so long, scolds the poison in her mind, to get them all to trust her again, to believe her again, to stop watching and assume she was _fine, better – so much better_. It had taken so long, and for one boy and one too many fits of despair, she's ruined it all. She's tried to escape, and failed, like things fail all the time – for people are pulling her back, shaking their heads like they've got it all figured out, like they can decide for her. As though they knew, as though they saw – when they see nothing, not even her.

_Now,_ cackle the voices, _you'll have to begin again, all over again_.

She is so _exhausted_, so full of ringing, bittersweet emptiness, fragile and defeated on a hospital bed with her friend's fingers digging into her hand as though she were about to be sucked into nothingness and disappear. Cassie breathes in, slowly, deeply; the little she knows of life is weighing down on her chest, smothering and suffocating. So much she's got left to go through.

Overcome by the anxiety of being alive, she squeezes Jal's hand back with limp fingers.

It's another beginning, yes, in the endless cycle.


	10. DeityofWords

**Spring Fever**

Author: Deity-of-Words

Fandom: Kingdom of Hearts

Claim: Axel

* * *

><p>Springtime.<p>

It was by far Axel's favourtie time of year. Every day was the definition of perfect: the sun was sitting high in the clear blue sky and there wasn't a single cloud in sight to ruin the pristine canvas. The wildflowers were starting to bloom and the cool breeze was filled with their aromatic scent.

It was absolutely beautiful.

With a content sigh, Axel stretched out his limbs and relaxed in his spot in the shade beneath the braches of a tree. He placed his hands behind his head and reclined further; it was a gorgeous day and he was happy to simply sit in that shade and observe his surroundings: content with losing himself in his thoughts. There was only one thing – or rather – one person who could make his day that much better.

Axel closed his eyes and sighed once again. His eyes were closed for barely a minute before he heard someone clearing his throat.

The redhead's brow furrowed and he reluctantly opened his eyes. It took a moment for his eyes to readjust to the bright sunlight but when they did he found himself staring into Roxas's azure eyes. For a minute, he felt lost in the pools of blue; they seemed to be the key to Roxas's very soul.

With that thought Axel chuckled softly to himself. He did have a tendency to be melodramatic.

"What are you doing here, Roxas?"

The blonde shrugged his shoulders. "It's a nice day. I didn't feel like wasting it at home," he said as he flopped down onto the grass beside Axel. "What about you?"

Axel glanced at Roxas through half-closed eyes and a small smile spread across his face. "It's springtime."

His answer confused Roxas greatly. He hadn't mentioned anything about the season. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Another laugh escaped the redhead. "Because it's spring and it's my favourite time of year, that's what."

Roxas's brow furrowed Axel's answer hadn't cleared up his confusion, but he had never known that his friend felt that way about spring. Personally Roxas had always liked autumn, particularly when the leaves started to change. The leaves were just like people: trying to desperately to show their true colours. Sometimes, just like the leaves, they managed to change, but they always went back to pretending to be what society deemed appropriate. After autumn, the leaves always changed back to green.

Just as Axel had done moments earlier, Roxas laughed out loud without warning. His sudden outburst startled Axel who had been dozing lightly. The startled redhead sat up and looked around frantically as though someone was attacking him.

It took a moment longer for Axel to realize that Roxas had woken him; he narrowed his sea-green eyes on Roxas and a slight smirk curved his lips. "What's so funny?"

Roxas waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing," he said while stifling another laugh. Truthfully, it really was nothing. He found it amusing how he and Axel thought so much alike. Both of them tended to overthink things; perhaps they had been spending too much time together.

Axel eyed Roxas suspiciously for a moment, clearly not believing that it wasn't nothing but knowing his friend well enough to know better than to prove for more information. Instead he simply leant back against the truck of the tree and took a minute to observe the sights around the park. A number of families were having picnics: some even had the clichéd red and white checkered blanket.

Children flew kites and placed chase while their parents watched serenely, but one sight in particular caught his attention.

At the swings a few meters away were twin four-year old girls. There was nothing out of the ordinary about them, but they touched Axel's heart; the girls were each taking turns _attempting_ to push each other on the swing.

Their parents stood behind them, smiling brightly as their daughters interacted. Every now and then they would try to help their daughters, and then they did, the twins would knock their hands away before proclaiming that they were 'not a baby' in perfect unison.

A smile worked its way onto Axel's face as he continued to watch the family. After a moment he slapped the back of his hand against Roxas's arm and pointed towards the happy family. "Check them out."

The blonde followed Axel's finger and observed the twins for a moment. Eventually he turned his gaze to Axel and raised an eyebrow. "What about them?"

Axel rolled his eyes. "Look how happy they are playing on the swings."

"I can see that, Axel, but there are plenty of kids playing around the park. What makes them so special?"

Axel sat up and looked at his friend with a disbelieving expression. "Come on, Roxas, don't you remember what it was like to be a kid and coming to the park to play in the springtime? The sun always shining above you, the wing gently rustling the leaves and the swings!" he exclaimed with childlike excitement.

"They were the best thing back then – hell, they still are!"

Axel fell back against the trunk of the tree and with a huge smile, looked up at the leaves above him. He remembered all the antics he had gotten up to when he was a kid playing on the swings. They had been some of the happiest times of his life; skinned knees and broken bones, and of course all the questions that came with being a kid:

_How fast can I go? How high can I go?_

_What will happen if I twist the chains? What will happen if I jump off?_

Axel believed every kid should know the answers to those questions because every kid should have tried to jump off the swings or twist the chains, and all kids had competed to see who could swing faster and higher.

That was what being a kid was all about: being bold enough to try new things even when mum said 'no'.

"Do you really think they're the best?" asked Roxas as he eyed the recently vacated swings. It had been a number of years since he had been on a swing, but Axel's words had brought back some rather nostalgic memories. He remembered how much fun he had as a kid on the swings, and for a moment, he wondered if that was how all kids felt.

"Yes I do. I love swings, Roxas." Axel said matter-of-factly. "When I was a kid, I was the King of the swings. I was able to swing faster and higher than the other kids. I even broke my leg once because I jumped off when I was swinging too fast," her said with a proud laugh. Axel may have been a grown man, but he wasn't the least bit ashamed about how much he loved the swings.

Axel reclined against the tree truck once more and Roxas sat up to look at him. "You jumped off a swing?" he asked after a moment of silence.

A smile spread across Axel's face and he gently nodded. "Yeah."

"And you don't regret breaking your leg?"

Axel peeked at Roxas through half closed eyes and shook his head. "Not really. Yeah, I broke my leg, and my mum wasn't too happy about it, but at the time all I cared about was being the King of the swings. By jumping off I secured my reign as King for a few more years," he said with a lopsided grin.

A soft laugh escaped Roxas. He found it easy to believe that Axel as a kid had only been concerned with being King; that was one of the many perks of being a kid. You didn't have to worry about the daily dramas of adulthood.

"But why did you jump?" Roxas asked, "Aside from securing your reign."

Axel paused. Truthfully, he didn't really know why he had jumped, aside from another kid daring him to do so. Back then he hadn't given it much thought; he had simply jumped, but now? Now he knew the answer.

"Because every kid should jump at least once; it's part of being a kid. Doing what you want to without giving the consequences a second thought." Axel's gaze lingered on the empty swings.

Both of them were silent then; each contemplating the importance of the swings in a child's life. Axel had thought about it many times in the past. He believed that every child needed to play on swings at least once in their lifetime, and he intended to give any kids he had the chance to do so.

However, Roxas had never thought so deeply about swings. Of course he had enjoyed them as a kid, but he had never considered them as an essential part of childhood. Now that he had had a chance to think, he agreed with Axel.

"You know, Axel," Roxas said softly after a few more minutes, "I've never jumped before."

His words had been so hushed that Axel hadn't heard them at first. After a minute, it sunk into his head and Axel sat up suddenly. The redhead could only gape at his friend in shock; Roxas had never jumped off a swing before. Axel had thought that every kid had jumped at least once.

Roxas shifted in his spot nervously, he hadn't exactly been expecting Axel to react like that. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure why he had told Axel he had never jumped before, but as they continued to stare at one another, he saw a ghost of a smirk flicker across Axel's lips before disappearing and he instantly regretted saying anything.

Axel eyed Roxas carefully for a few seconds. So he had never jumped off a swing – Axel intended to change that. He got to his feet and brushed his hands against his worn grey jeans.

"Come on," he said, offering Roxas his hand.

The blonde's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his friend. It was painfully obvious that he was planning something. "What for? Where are we going?" he asked, unsure of Axel's intentions.

Upon hearing the apprehension in Roxas's voice, a laugh escaped Axel, and without warning he reached down and took hold of Roxas's hands before hoisting him to his feet. He paid no attention when Roxas's protests and instead smiled at him.

"You said you have never jumped before, right? Well today is your lucky day, because I'm going to jump with you!"

"Wait, what?" Roxas was unsure whether he had heard Axel correctly.

Roxas wasn't given another chance to protest before he found himself being dragged toward the empty swings. Axel pulled Roxas in front of him and pushed him into the swing.

"Relax, it'll be fun," he said with a grin.

The redhead took the second vacant swing and scuffed his feet gently against the sand. He swayed gently back and forth as he waited for Roxas begin swinging. After a few minutes Roxas sighed; he knew it was pointless to pretend that Axel wasn't going to get his way.

Roxas cast a sideways glance at his friend. "So why exactly am I jumping?

Axel shrugged his shoulders as he started to swing faster. "Like I said, every kid should do it at least once."

Once again the two of them fell silent as they simply started to swing back and forth. Each of them were content with just swinging and feeling the wing rushing past them; it had been some time since either of them had simply sat down and enjoyed themselves as they were doing now.

It was nice, relaxing even – just the two of them spending some quality time together.

The two of them glanced at one another but otherwise said nothing.

Roxas arched a brow at Axel; the action spoke a thousand words.

A smirk flickered over Axel's lips: challenge accepted.

With that, they both began kicking their legs out to propel themselves faster. Both of them were laughing and smiling as they relived the excitement of childhood competition. They continued to swing higher and faster, but soon enough Axel was able to generate more speed than Roxas and wore a proud smile. "You can't beat me! I'm the King of Swings, remember?"

A sarcastic laugh escaped the blonde as he swung forward: "Twenty bucks says that I can!" He wagered.

"You are on! Whoever jumps the farthest wins?" Axel countered quickly.

"Deal!" Roxas agreed, barely even noticing the butterflies fluttering around his stomach. "Jump on three?"

The redhead nodded in agreement. For a moment the two of them focused on building up more speed and when both were satisfied, they looked at one another quickly and nodded.

"One –" They altered their grips and placed their arms at the front of the chains.

"Two –" They swung backwards a final time and braved themselves for the jump.

"Three –" They propelled themselves forward and without a second thought, they jumped.

The feeling was unreal.

Everything was happening in slow motion. One moment they were swinging, and the next, they were flying through the air.

Axel loved it. The wind rushing past him, tugging at his clothes and whipping his hair around his face: it would never cease to amaze him. Every time he jumped it felt different, but each time he felt like he was flying: like nothing could stop him and he could just fly away.

Roxas felt similar. This was his first jump, and he knew that from this moment on he would be forever addicted. He felt like a candy wrapper sawing majestically in an updraft and it felt like the wind would lift him into the sky and carry him away.

As the two of them hit the ground, Axel just ahead of Roxas, everything sped back up. They skidded across the grass a couple of meters before finally coming to a stop.

Roxas landed on his back and Axel was half splayed over him. They remained like that for a few minutes as they caught their breath. When at last he could breathe again, Axel propped himself up on his elbows and grinned down at Roxas.

The two of them dissolved into laughter once again. Axel rested his head in the crook of the blonde's neck and Roxas's heart skipped a beat.

"Told you, didn't I? It one of the best experiences in the world, "Axel gloated as he raised his head to stare down into Roxas's azure eyes. "By the way, you owe me twenty bucks."

Roxas stared up at Axel with a mixture of emotions. Surprise that Axel had been right, annoyance that he was twenty dollars out of pocket, embarrassment about Axel's current position, and above all, nervous because truthfully he didn't know how to handle Axel's flirtatious demeanour. After a moment he smiled up at Axel. "Yeah, you were right."

It was then that Axel suddenly closed the distance between them and sealed Roxas's lips in an unexpected kiss. Once again he his heart skipped a beat. His eyes snapped open – he wasn't even aware he had closed them – and he stared into Axel's half-hooded eyes.

Somewhat hesitantly, his hands worked their way up Axel's back before balling into fists around the material of Axel's shirt.

After so long, so much teasing and anticipation, they were finally sharing their first kiss.

It was gentle. Soft, but at the same time it was demanding: passionate.

And it was the first of many.

After a few more seconds, Axel finally broke the kiss and allowed both of them to catch their breaths once again. The redhead grinned cheekily down at his flustered friend.

The blonde could only sigh. "Happy springtime, Axel"

Axel stole another quick kiss. "Happy springtime, Roxas."


	11. songstar13

**Hope is the Thing With Feathers  
><strong>

Author: songstar13

Fandom: Bleach

Claim: Inoue Orihime

* * *

><p>Flowers are like birds, she decides, fingering a delicate white bloom. The satiny petals give easily, slipping over her skin with a pleasantly ticklish sensation. Not in the conventional sense, of course. She holds one petal between thumb and forefinger contemplatively. With but a bit of sentience, it, too, could dwell in the sky.<p>

But it does not have that bit of consciousness to lift it from the ground; tangling roots anchor it down, discouraging the lure of airborne freedom. But still, it yearns for the heavens: twining tendrils reach up, up, up toward that intriguing domain as though, if it only stretches far enough...

The bloom longs for the sky and the bird cannot keep it. He flits through it, freed from the constraints of earth and soil only momentarily. Invariably he returns to the realm of living things, never truly free no matter how high he climbs. Earth is a demanding mother; as he wanders farther from her embrace she calls him back to her with increasing insistence until he cannot but heed her.

No, the bird cannot keep it, but the flower will never lose it. Fixed upon the ground as it is, it will never know the fleeting exhilaration of completely escaping Earth's hold, but neither will it ever know the bitterness of relinquishing such freedom.

The bird is like the flower, then, because they are both residents of two worlds; one an inconstant traveler forever slipping between the two, the other neither here nor there yet somewhere in-between and within. The bird, forever the optimist, forever sure that this one last flight will be the one that never ends. The flower, ever the realist striving for the sky with no chance of falling.

Hope may be feathered, she surmises, but promises have petals.


	12. Hope the Ghost Writer

**The Lady of Shallot  
><strong>

Author: Hope the Ghost Writer

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Claim: Sir Lancelot (Shadow)

* * *

><p>Camelot: the lively home of the Knights of the Round Table. A bustling village dotted with fruitful fields of barley and rye. In this village, there is a river that meanders and flows gracefully until it reaches a sole, isolated island with aromatic springtime flora that are beginning to bloom. This island is known as Shallott, and in its heart is a cold, stone-clad tower, where a young girl of about twelve resides. The pre-teen spends all hours of the day weaving to no end—'tis the cruel fate she's bound to. A curse keeps her from even leaving her place. She's personally never seen the outside world—and 'tis a shame. She has silky locks of gold, eyes as blue as the springtime sky, and skin without even the most insignificant blemish—yet the world cannot see her, and vice versa.<p>

The people below acknowledge the mysterious, secluded young woman as the Lady of Shallott. As the woman works ardently, she sings a graceful, heavenly tune that soothes the hearts of all who hear it. The surface people don't grow tired of her constant singing and have come to respect it and enjoy it, seeing it as a sign of serenity.

**-x-**

Lancelot isn't much of a nature person, but the many stories of Shallott he's heard over the years intrigues him. Although it's customary to have all expeditions approved by his master—the Knight of the Wind—he decides to sneak away to the supposedly beautiful island. It's the first day of spring, and a beautiful one at that; he feels that it was worth whatever punishment his master may give him. (Then again, Master Sonic isn't a heartless soul like his old master, who, one could argue, never existed in the first place.)

With Arondight at his side, the red-accented, black-furred hedgehog sits patiently in a paddleboat constructed of sturdy wood. The knight of the Round Table looks up to the sky and absorbs the warm sunlight that beamed down from above. It feels soothing—yet the knight doesn't crack a smile. (Like nature, smiling isn't one of the things that Lancelot particularly enjoys.) He just folds his arms and waits as the island slowly grows closer to him.

**-x-**

The Lady of Shallott weaves her magical tapestry as usual, taking an occasional glance at the enchanted mirror beside her. This looking glass allows her to see the shadows of the surface people as they interact with each other and go on with their lives. It's unfortunately her only connection with the world she so longs to see. But she can never go down. Not with that damned curse binding her.

Something makes her stop weaving. In her mirror, she sees the silhouette of a most marvelous creature. He's a hedgehog adorned with armor, and he has a sword at his side. He's gracefully gliding through the field surrounding her castle, picking flowers as he does so. The knight stops in his tracks for a moment, then whistles a gentle melody before resuming his running and flora gathering._ What a charming fellow!_ she thinks.

Intrigued, she makes a most terrible choice. The Lady steps away from her loom and waltzes towards the window behind her workstation. She peeks her head out and stares down at the mysterious hedgehog. "I must meet him," she tells herself. The Lady convinces herself that he can protect her from harms way. No curse can take her life with a guardian to protect her.

When she turns around, she glances at her mirror. Out of nowhere, it shatters and releases an ominous puff of smoke. Only the Lady knows what this means.

**-x-**

The sun is setting. Lancelot is sitting in his boat, which is rapidly approaching Camelot. He's surrounded with the most gorgeous flowers—all of which he picked while he was visiting Shallott. He may not show emotion, but he's excited to present his springtime gift to his fellow Knights of the Round Table—Percival and Gawain—and his master.

Deep in the back of his mind, Lancelot has this feeling that something is horribly wrong. He doesn't know what that "something" is, but this vague premonition of his is fogging up his mind—making him worry to the point where he starts to develop a headache. He tries to disregard this feeling by telling himself, "Perhaps I just need to rest."

But rest won't be enough to prepare him for what's ahead.

**-x-**

The sky is dark. The winds are howling. An April rain falls like the tears of the brokenhearted. The only cheerful thing is the sound of heavenly singing that can be heard from the river. Even that sound, however, has its dissonant notes, and when said note sounds, the world falls silent. It's as if an angel has fallen from Heaven.

**-x-**

"Everyone," a usually brave person of Camelot cries, "a boat! There's a boat! R-right here! C-come all!"

Everyone who was feasting at Camelot drops his or her meal and congregates at the riverbank, where they all discover a girl lying dead in a boat. She's dressed in a gentle, white cloth. She looks peaceful, but her death must've been anything but. _What has happened here?_ everyone wonders in fear and concern. _Has a plague hit her and killed her in her sleep? Are we all next?_ Nobody really shows concern for the girl herself; they're all just concerned about whether-or-not she was contagious by any chance.

The only brave one to step forward and examine the girl and her vessel any further is none other than Lancelot—not Percival nor Gawain. He kneels on one knee at the side of the boat, then examines the bow, which has the words "_The Lady of Shallott" _painted in a graceful script. He peers inside of the boat and notices the lady in white lying in her endless sleep. Her face looks so pristine—so youthful.

Why does he feel a connection to this unfortunate face? Lancelot has the feeling that the two of them were destined to meet somehow, but he doesn't quite understand why this was the time and place for their first encounter.

_The Lady of Shallott_. Why does that name haunt him so? Does this have to do with his visit to the aromatic island earlier today? Did he cause this? Is he the reason that she ended up here?

Lancelot feels that it was his duty to pay his respects. Whether or not he caused this, he is not certain. Yet, the hedgehog feels guilt, and he feels obliged to honor the young girl's premature death. He removes Arondight from its scabbard and digs it into the ground in front of him, then saying, "She has a lovely face; God, in His mercy, lend her grace."


	13. SiriuslyPeeved

**Nothing But The Rain**

Author: SiriuslyPeeved

Fandom: Battlestar Galactica (2003)

Claim: Lee Adama

Background: For those who have not yet watched the show, this story is set about a year after the series finale, "Daybreak." It's loaded with spoilers for the entire show. Dedicated to all my good friends at the RLt and to the Spirit of Sweet Springtime, which dragged this story from canon to AU. I couldn't help myself! This chapter was beta-read by the wonderful darkin520.

* * *

><p>Lee Adama lay down on his stomach in the damp fallen leaves and adjusted the sights on his Colonial-issue binoculars. A pair of sleek, brown ducks swam across the surface of the pond, parting the circular impressions left behind by falling raindrops.<p>

Lee wondered, as always, at the presence of such familiar things as ducks on the new Earth, halfway across the galaxy from the Twelve Colonies; they were nearly identical to the birds swimming in the lakes around Caprica City when he was a boy.

_Bill Adama surveyed the rude fireplace of charred stone with as much satisfaction as he would someday view the gleaming consoles of the _Galactica._ His sons were his crew and the whole planet, his vessel._

_Twelve-year-old Lee sat on a flat rock chewing on a sour piece of fruit. The old man was such a delusional bastard. The family was broken beyond repair; two weekends in the woods each summer, getting chewed to death by bugs and pissing behind trees, couldn't possibly fix anything. Dad never showed up for school vacations or holidays, and then, their summers were full of pretending nothing was wrong. Mom wasn't any help, she just wanted to shove the boys at their father and slam the door behind them._

_Lee's ten-year-old brother hauled back on his fishing rod and pulled a silver-sided trout from the cold stream. _

"_Good one, Zac!"_

_Dad's proud look brought a resentful hunch to Lee's shoulders. Twelve-year-old Lee usually spent the entire weekend wishing for a seat in Grandpa's air-conditioned library with a big stack of legal journals and a cold glass of lemonade._

_Dad helped Zac put his fish on the string in the stream and then started taking pictures of birds again. Lee wondered what people in the Fleet would say if word got around about where the great Commander Adama spent so much of his free time, halfway hanging out of a tree, taking pictures of songbirds. Afterward, he forced both sons to sit still and look at blurry slideshows, every last picture._

_Lee knew he was a disappointment, much like the constant succession of photographs that almost – but not quite – captured the split-second postures of the birds._

_Over and over again, Bill Adama took his sons back to the wild, trying to capture what he thought was really there._

It wasn't until Zac was dead and the humanity fled the Twelve Colonies that Lee really became close to his father. Kara was his Dad's pet and prodigy and he loved her like a daughter; sometimes, Lee and Kara were like siblings battling for the Commander's approval and attention. Lee smiled at the memory.

From far away in the bare treetops came a broken chattering sound, a swell of wings and strident calls. A mixed flock of small, dark birds landed haphazardly in the trees overhead. Perhaps the birds were returning to the forest for the season or merely flowing north in an inexorable migration, drawn by music only they could hear… just like Kara.

What was Kara Thrace when she climbed down from the unmarked _Viper_ six months after she died? Was she an angel? A ghost? What was she when her arms closed tightly around him, her pale hair falling around his face?

_All this has happened before, and all of it will happen again._

Lee didn't live in the world of destiny, and he didn't think much of the Cylon God. Ever since the war began, he'd tried his best to avoid thinking about the mysteries running beneath the everyday world.

After he left the military, Lee buried himself in the intricacies of law. He was fascinated by how humans found new ways to cheat or reward one another: how they found the power to repress or the strength to lift someone up. Daily needs trumped the pull of the unknown until the _Viper's_ pristine hatch popped with a sigh of newness, of never having opened before, and Kara Thrace emerged, reborn.

Lee watched her die. He _knew_ she had died; no one had ejected from the doomed _Viper _as it plummeted toward the gas giant. And yet, there she was on the flight deck, saying she had been to Earth and would take them there.

A small black bird hopped down from the conifer branch over Lee's head and pecked curiously at the remnants of his dinner. The bird's jerky movements, almost reptilian, fascinated Lee as he lay in the damp brush. He tried to take a picture, but it was blurry, even close up. Lee's quick smile was rueful – how Dad would laugh if he ever found out that Lee was finally taking pictures of birds.

"_Dad, this is a waste of time," Lee had complained._

_Bill Adama turned toward him with a twist of his deeply lined face. "Who can fly without having to strap himself into a machine? Not you. Salute the bird, Cadet; he is your superior."_

Lee's_ Raptor_ waited quietly in the brush behind him. He had enough fuel for one or two more long flights – Saul and Ellen Tigh lived several hundred kilometers up the coast, and he'd wanted to roam over the mountains behind their camp – but after that, he'd have to scrap her. The faithful_ Raptor_ was no bird in truth, but only a machine.

Lee was alone on a wide continent strewn sparsely with Cylon and human survivors; some of the planet's indigenous human population lived nearby, but he might never see another familiar face if he let the _Raptor _run out of fuel. In a way, that would be what he deserved.

Before the war, he was going to marry a girl named Gianne. When she told him she was pregnant, he bolted. _"One last mission,"_ he told her, _"Just for Dad's decommissioning, and I'll be home soon."_

Two weeks later came the Cylon invasion. Perhaps Lee and Gianne would have gotten off-planet if he had only stayed, perhaps he would be sitting here in the woods of new Earth with Gianne and the child; perhaps they all would have been blown to bits, but at least they would have been together.

Sometimes, it was hard to remember Gianne's voice, the feeling of her body in his arms, the way she picked up his socks on the bathroom floor, the way she laughed at even his dumbest jokes. Lee probed at his guilt and pain like a deep bruise, the kind you can't feel unless you push down on it with your thumbs; but then, when you reach the wound under the skin, it hurts just like the day it was new.

And then there was his ex-wife, Dee, who folded into herself from grief and despair when she beheld the ruin of the old Earth: the spark of her kind spirit extinguished by hopelessness.

Lee didn't know whether he could have prevented Dee's suicide, but he knew he had failed his wife by loving Kara Thrace, failed her by never being able to let his love transform back into friendship. Lee's marriage and Kara's, for that matter, meant so little in the end.

Lee smiled in the cold twilight. Thinking of Kara made him feel warmer. The rain fell harder, and he settled under a tarp in the hollow between the newly sprung ferns. He plucked one of the tightly curled ferns from the ground and washed it with pond water run through the sterilizer. It tasted of springtime, of tromping through the woods behind Zac and his father, of swatting mosquitoes while listening to Zac suck up to Dad for the five-millionth time.

Lee wondered if he'd ever see his father again. Alone in the forest, five hundred kilometers from any human being, he could finally admit that he wished he had let himself enjoy those long-ago camping trips in the forests around Caprica City. Zac was dead, and Dad lived alone with Laura Roslin's memory. Lee had loved Laura, too; she was good for Dad, and she was a friend and mentor.

_Time moves more quickly than we'd like_, thought Lee._ Even if our loved ones aren't following a destiny larger than themselves, even if they are just ordinary, weak people - gentle ones, like Dee, or brash and loyal and funny, like Zac - death takes them anyway, just because it must. Just because we are no different in her eyes from this fern I've chewed and swallowed or the little moths flying around my flashlight._

A rustle in the bracken behind the _Raptor _made Lee grab for his gun. "Show yourself!"

_There aren't any people within a hundred kilometers, you moron; it's probably a deer._

Branches snapped just behind the_ Raptor's_ starboard wing. Lee moved closer, keeping his weapon at the ready. Some of the local predators could be dangerous when protecting their young; in springtime, the mothers were most easily annoyed.

A tall woman in Colonial fatigues stepped out from behind the _Raptor_. Her pale golden hair hung past her shoulders, and her smile held everything Lee had ever wished for. Her open palm trailed slowly across the wing as she walked toward him.

_"What do you hear?"_

Lee holstered his weapon and stepped toward her. He didn't care whether she was a ghost or an angel or a hallucination born of months alone in the forest. He closed the distance between them; his boots sank into the damp, dead grass, and thorns caught at his pant legs.

"_Nothing but the rain,"_ said Lee, raising a wondering hand to her face and brushing at a smudge of dirt on her cheekbone.

Kara stepped closer to him and dropped her pack on the mossy ground. Warm and solid and real, she placed a hand on either side of his waist and leaned into his touch. Her voice came back muffled when she answered, _"Then grab your gun and bring in the cat."_


	14. Rosawyn

**The Truth In Springtime**

Author: Rosawyn

Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Claim: Elim Garak

Background:To understand this fic if you are not familiar with Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, there are a few things you probably need to know. Garak is a Cardassian who has been at various times a spy, a tailor, and a gardener. The Cardassian military occupied Bajor for many years, enslaving its people. Julian is a human Starfleet doctor who meets Garak after the Occupation is over. The two become close friends and fight as allies during the Dominion War. Garak once tells Julian, "Truth is in the eye of the beholder, Doctor. I never tell the truth because I don't believe there _is_ such a thing." Garak also tells Julian that all the lies he ever told him are true.

* * *

><p>It was a quiet springtime afternoon on Bajor when Elim Garak and Julian Bashir were taking a walk together by a stream. Small pink-white blossoms from the trees floated like a flock of dreamy faeries through the air, some alighting on the top of the water and being swept along by the current before finding a place among their brethren clinging to the glistening rocks, forming a sort of frothy pink-white frill along the edges of the water.<p>

"You know, I always loved springtime," Julian said. "Back on Earth, of course, but on any planet really."

Garak favoured him with an expectant gaze and a slightly-raised eyebrow, waiting for his friend to elaborate.

Julian grinned, taking a deep breath of the fresh Bajoran air into his lungs and letting it out with an expression of pleased satisfaction. "It's just such a hopeful, welcoming time of year—it's as though all of nature wants to tell us that everything is going to be okay, because even after the dark times, light and life always come back into the world: the snow and ice melt, leaves and flowers bud and bloom again on trees that seemed dead all winter, and the birds come back and fill the air with their singing...I just love it." He smiled, his eyes shining.

"Oh yes," Garak said, his own eyes twinkling in wry amusement. "There's also the mud, of course. And usually a great deal of rain."

Julian chuckled softly, nodding in agreement as he looked down at the smears of mud on his boots—walking by a stream in springtime did have that effect on one's footwear. The damp gravel of the pathway made soft crunching sounds under their feet as they walked.

"The Bajoran winters were always the worst for the Cardassians during the Occupation," Garak continued, "with weather so different than what we were used to back home." His voice was still deceptively light, but his eyes had a sort of faraway look in them. "The only thing any of us ever admitted to liking about the spring, though, was the wine."

Julian's eyebrows drew together slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Would you admit to it now? To liking springtime?"

"No."

Julian looked somewhat offended, stopping in his tracks to turn and regard his friend with his hands on his hips. "Why ever not?"

Garak stopped and turned to meet the challenge in Julian's gaze with a mild and somewhat indulgent smile. "Because, my dear Doctor, it is a _lie_."

Julian shook his head, his eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. "Springtime...is a lie?" His voice was incredulous.

"Well," Garak amended, "perhaps not springtime everywhere, but springtime on Bajor is a _terrible_ lie." He sighed. "Nothing we broke during our Occupation of Bajor can be fixed by the changing of seasons. The lives we ended cannot be restored. No amount of time will ever truly melt the hearts of the Bajoran people to their former oppressors, nor should it."

Julian laid a hand gently on Garak's arm, his eyes filled with a sort of pained gentleness that no doubt was meant to convey understanding. "Garak—" he began, then sighed, looking down. After a moment he looked back up into his friend's eyes, trying for a bit of a smile. "You believe nature is capable of lying?"

"It is the nature of _all_ _life_ to lie." Garak's reply was quick, but his features were schooled into a mild expression one might use when lecturing a small child.

Julian sighed, looking down at the glossy rocks at the edge of the stream. "How— You don't believe 'truth' even _exists_; how do you decide which 'lies' to believe?"

"Ah, my dear Doctor, you must try to believe the lies that are the most beautiful." Garak looked thoughtful, and his eyes held a far-away look.

Julian looked intently into Garak's eyes, reached up, and ran his fingertips over Garak's cheek just below the bone ridge that curled around his eyes with a feather-light touch. "Then I believe this lie," he whispered and pressed his lips gently over Garak's.

The kiss was tender and hesitant. After a few moments, Garak pulled back to look into Julian's face again and traced his own fingertips gently from Julian's temple down to the corner of his mouth. "Oh, my dear Doctor," he whispered, "you tell the most beautiful lies."

One of the delicate pink-white blossoms drifted through the air and landed in Julian's hair. Garak plucked it out with gentle fingers, careful not to crush the fragile blossom. "Perhaps..." he said, staring at the flower.

Julian took his hand. "I have always thought springtime was the most beautiful," Julian said softly.

Garak let the flower go and watched it float and spin dreamily though the air to alight on a nearby rock. "One day," Garak said as they began walking again, now hand-in-hand, "you must show me springtime on Earth." His eyes were gentle as he turned and smiled softly at Julian. "But for now, I suppose Bajoran Springtime is also...beautiful, and I am...glad to share it with you."

Julian smiled, looking thoughtful. "Can a thing be both 'beautiful' and 'terrible'?"

"Oh, my dear Doctor," Garak replied, his voice soft, "of course it can—the most beautiful things are always terrible."


	15. Lazerwolf314

**Spring  
><strong>

Author: Lazerwolf314

Fandom: Sam Braddock

Claim: Flashpoint

* * *

><p>Taking deep breath, Sam Braddock closed his eyes and let the smells of spring fill his lungs.<p>

Behind him, the city of Toronto continued on its daily bustle and moan, horns beeping, sirens wailing, people yelling. But the sounds of organized chaos fell quiet as he stood at the edge of the woodland. Greenery was exploding all around him, bursting from the trees and ground, bright splashes of color against the drab mud and snow that had filled every person's vision for months now.

Nature was finally coming back to herself.

It pleased him to see the darkness edged away the brilliance. A little bit of the cold that had enveloped him ever since last April chipped away.

Beside him, a gravestone marked the place his love was buried.

"If you were here Jules, you wouldn't let me just stand around would you? We'd already be working outside, finishing up the patio and putting in the fire pit, am I right?"

In the emptiness that followed, the wind whistled lowly.

Ducking his head, Sam whispered, "Damn you Julianna, why did you have to try and save everyone?" Fists clenching in reflex against the wave of pain that rose as he recalled watching her fall from the bullet that had torn through her skull, Sam exhaled a shuddering breath. That bullet had been meant for him.

He would never forgive her for that.

He could never forget her.

Resting his hand on the cold stone, Sam felt his knees crumple. Landing in a squelch of mud, he heard the remaining members of Team One shift in anxiousness. But none approached. And for that, Sam was grateful. He wouldn't be able to deal with sympathy; he couldn't deal with sympathy. Not today.

He stayed hunched like that for a long while, simply remembering and battling with wounds threatening to reopen. It was only when the cold water and mud from under him seeped into his senses, did he struggle back to his feet.

Sam looked down at the square of granite one last time, the words embossed on it before turning and walking back to where his team waited for him. Instinctively, his thumb began to run over the gold band encircling his fourth finger. Halfway across the stretch of ground, he stopped when a robin landed directly in front of him. It eyed him with beady eyes, watching the gaunt man in front of it for a long moment until it took to the air once again, flitting away into the forest.

Shocked only for a second, Sam continued on his way and clambered into the back of Wordy's minivan, ignoring the pitying looks and the prickle at the back of his neck. It was time.

Staring out the window at the bursting of new life and color as they drove away, Sam rested his head against the window and closed his eyes. His hands trembled once in his lap and then stilled.

"Goodbye Jules."

_Julianna Callahan_

_July 12, 1973 – April 26, 2013_

_Friend, Wife, Warrior._


	16. Challenger2011

**New Beginnings **

Author: Challenger2011

Fandom: Transformers/Beast Wars

Claim: Bumblebee

* * *

><p>Bumblebee had never experienced the changing of seasons before. Cybertron was not an organic planet, so terms such as spring and summer or fall and winter had no meaning to him. The war on Cybertron had already started by the time Bumblebee had come online for the first time. Because of that he knew little of what his home planet had been like in its Golden Age. He sometimes wondered what it looked like back then. Was it as colorless back then as it had been when Bumblebee had saw it? He supposed it didn't matter now. Cybertron was dead. Forever it would remain a gray, lifeless husk, littered with the gray bodies of the deceased.<p>

When he arrived on Earth, Bumblebee had feared that the planet was going to be the same as Cybertron – dead. Everything in the area where he had arrived was dead. The grass was brown, the trees were bare, and on that particular day the sky was gray. He almost panicked – thinking that maybe they were too late to save this planet – when a quick search on the human's internet told him that the planet was fine and that this was normal for this planet. It shocked Bumblebee. How could something like this actually be normal for a planet? He didn't understand it and he wouldn't understand it until spring.

Spring had amazed him. The dead brown grass transformed into a lush green color, leaves started to appear on the trees, and flowers started to bloom. More creatures started to appear, adding to the array of colors. Bumblebee wondered if the humans saw it the way he did. Was the grass as green to them as it was to him? Did it symbolize life and a new beginning for them or was it just something that they took for granted? Whatever they thought of it, he hoped that they would never lose it. He hoped that they would never have to know what it was like to live on a dark, gray world and that they would always have a chance for their new beginnings.


	17. Sassmaster Omega 620

**Simpler Times  
><strong>

Author: Sassmaster Omega 620

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Claim: Demeter

* * *

><p>Springtime. It is the first season and a new beginning for all new life. Also it is undoubtedly my favorite. There is just something about it that makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.<p>

I could name a hundred reasons why I love it so much, maybe it's because the feel of the rain and wind on my skin is enthralling to say the least. Maybe because my beloved daughter Persephone finally is allowed to come out of that rotten place called the Underworld.

I _told_ her; didn't I tell _her_ not to eat the pomegranate? But did she listen? Noooo, she just had to eat it. She had no consideration for the fact that now for two seasons out of four her poor mother has to bear the cold, wind, and rain all by her lonesome.

Spring is so much better, it's so reviving and the one thing that I look forward to all year is bringing new life and flora to the mortal world with my daughter.

Besides the humans start their new planting season, beans, rice, and wheat. Oh wheat. Do you know what is made from wheat? Cereal, that's what. By far the best thing humans have ever done or made.

Normally all they do is go around ripping up plants, and using them for their own selfish gains. All anyone needs in order to have a stable diet and good life is cereal. I mean please, _Global warming? _Who do they think that they're kidding? The seasons will always be the seasons while I'm around.

Where was I? Oh yes springtime.

Even though Persephone is also with me in summer, spring is better. Summer is nosier, all those mortal kids running around and trampling good earth and crops. It's ridiculous.

Spring brings so many good things happiness, and new flowers, and a new sense of being born anew if that makes any sense.

Some of the Olympians complain about it, but how can you complain about such a beautiful and reviving season?

Bah. Who am I kidding? They will never understand the magic of it all. It was better millions of years ago when dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals roamed the earth. At least then **they **didn't try to destroy the only thing in the world that brings me joy.

Besides cereal and Persephone of course.

Spring may seem like just a season, but to me it's much more.

It's seeing the blooms burst from the trees, the children's laughter as they romp all over earth (yes, even though they are destroying my earth, their enthusiasm is catching) and most of all it's the sense that everything isn't all bleak and gray, and winter doesn't last forever.

Spring is hope in the simplest of terms.

Hope for a new phase, a new time, and a new loop in the new-ending circle.

Hope for a new day and another green glorious season.

**A/N: And done! Sorry it's a little rushed at the end, but I had some serious writer's block. And then it came to me, and I made a mad dash for my laptop. Hopefully you enjoyed, As much as I enjoyed finishing the darn thing. Thanks to Sonata for being a beta for this piece! **

**Later!**

**Sass. **


	18. Ceurlean City

**No Light, No Light**

Author: Cerulean City

Fandom: Doctor Who

Claim: TARDIS

* * *

><p><strong>B A N G <strong>

"_There's a mad man in a giant blue box; but am I the box or am I the mad man?" _

Cold. Dark. Peaceful. Long sleep, but the door's open. No one's home. Light! Life! His imprint, burning brighter than daylight. Brighter than sun. Hands, here, there. _What's this? What's that? Velocity Knob? Chameleon Circuit? Paradox Stabilizer? Better get a new one, that one's broke. _Awaken, my beauty, his energy burns. He is there, and I am the wind and I am the breath of the universe. Grown not made, grown not made. I'll grow to like him. I am winter and sleep and cold; he is spring and warmth and dew; winter is coming, spring is going—

Flight is unstable. Should go this way, not there, not that. Not yet, you aren't ready, my love. Is he? Isn't he? Isn't there? Should be?

The future is around: time goes not forward but sideways. Sideways he is there, and I am there, and we are love and Sexy, but not yet. Jolt jolt jolt don't fight me, my love, I know there's more. Trust. Crimson. Raindrop. Flutter. Tightrope. Shudder. Sphere. Dark. Anger, boil, fester, blackened, sister, death, dying crying—not yet.

It is still the spring, it is not the winter, it is not—

_I haven't got the foggiest. Random time, random setting. Could be anywhere! Could be any-_when. But I know when it is. I know where it is. I know it's right here, where I belong, with him.

_With her?_

He belongs to me, child, he is mine. My thief. I stole myself a Timelord. Dust. Ashes, ashes, ashes, ashes, you look Timelord; we came first. I was grown, not made, a process taking centuries or so I'm told it was yesterday it was today it is now. I am the bud unfurling on the tree and he is the branch or I am the branch and he is the bud falling from my hands down and down and down to the ground, because now he has you, and now you…

…you have me too.

"_There's a mad man with a giant blue box; but am I the blue man or am I the mad box?"_

It is harder to tell one from the other these days.

**B A N G**


	19. Lily Valens

**The Endless Winter**

Author: Lily Valens

Fandom: Cold Case

Claim: Frances Campbell

Background: Cold Case centred on a team of Philadelphia homicide detectives reopening old cold cases when some sort of new information or clue came to light. This episode, called Fireflies, focused on the 1975 disappearance of an eight-year-old girl. Her mother, Frances, is my claim and this story is dedicated to an unmet someone who continues to inspire me each and every day.

* * *

><p>From the time she was seven-years-old, May was always Frances Campbell's favourite time of the year. After all the blustery traces of Philadelphia's brutally cold winters had vanished to reveal a world of teeming greenery, Frances would spend countless hours building forts and hunting for butterflies in the thickets of Fox Chase.<p>

The May of her seventh year brought with it a new experience. Outside the window of her father's study, a robin built a nest in the small Japanese maple tree that Frances would spend countless hours under once the summer sun blazed down. For two magical weeks in May 1947, Frances took refuge inside the study after the robin's blue eggs hatched; Frances spent whole days inside twirling a lock of her dark red hair as she watched the mother bird feed her four babies crickets. As the two weeks drew to a close, Frances cowered in suspense as she watched the baby birds learn how to fly.

When the babies left the nest one day and did not return, Frances returned to the outdoors, but brought a souvenir back inside with her that night. Putting the already crumbling bird's nest onto a vacant spot on her book shelf, Frances wanted to always have a tangible memory from the first time she had witnessed the full circle of nature bringing forth new life. Through school and marriage, the last remaining pieces of the robin's nest remained carefully placed inside her memory box inside crackling yellow tissue paper.

XXX

On May 6, 1967, Frances and her husband, Norman Campbell, welcomed Melanie Frances Campbell into their lives. As Norman struggled to scratch out a living for his fledgling family, Frances remained at home with Melanie and wondered what she had done to deserve this perfect baby with dark brown hair and luminous gray eyes that mirrored her own. A quiet child who rarely fussed, Melanie grew into a child Frances and Norman were proud of. Like her mother, Melanie loved the outdoors and as soon as milder winter weather approached in March, Melanie would spend every free moment outdoors looking for fairies and fireflies. After coming in flushed and sweaty with dirt caked underneath her fingernails, Melanie would spend at least an hour each night showing her mother and father all the new treasures she had found.

XXX

In May 1975, the Campbells witnessed a new side to spring in Philadelphia; instead of enjoying the profound new changes of the season, the Campbells were reminded of the centuries' old tensions and hatred that still ran deep when the whole neighbourhood gathered to protest the arrival of an African-American family.

"Get out of here, critters!" bellowed Jack Wilson, the ringleader of the crowd waving signs and chanting, "Leave, Leave!" behind him on the sidewalk across the road from the house the Pierce family was moving into.

As Frances escaped into the house, Norman eyed the shouting crowd with disgust. Turning his eyes next door, Norman spotted Cherice Pierce, the Pierce's eight-year-old daughter, as she stood transfixed in her front yard. Catching Melanie's eye as she began to head back into the house, Norman stopped Melanie's retreat.

"Honey," Norman whispered as he ran a hand through his thick blond hair. "There's that little girl your mom and I told you about. Why don't you show her the fireflies you caught today?"

"Sure, Daddy!" replied Melanie, an excited look coming into her eyes as she began to run down the front steps as she clasped her glass jar tightly. Ever since Nancy Dyers had moved away to Boston, there had been no little girls of Melanie's age left in the neighbourhood.

"What does critters mean, Tyrell?" Cherice asked as her brother Tyrell came along beside her, lugging a heavy cardboard box towards their new house.

Stealing a quick glance at the chanting crowd before turning back to his sister, Tyrell issued a quiet reminder, "Dad told you to go inside, Cherice." Angry once again that their dad had moved them from Brooklyn, Tyrell moved towards the house without another word.

"Critters means bugs and stuff!" explained Melanie, running up to the small mesh fence that separated her front yard from the Pierce's.

"Oh!" said Cherice, running towards Melanie, a huge smile plastered across her face that revealed the two spaces yet to be filled.

"Wanna see my fireflies?" asked Melanie, holding her jar out across the top of the fence.

Cherice's face scrunched up in horror as she stammered, "Are those…bugs?"

"They beautify up at night!"

Eying the flying specks uncertainly, Cherice let out a nervous giggle.

"They do! Like magic! I mean, if you believe in that stuff," said Melanie, shrugging her shoulders as she smiled at Cherice.

Intrigued, Cherice couldn't help but grin back.

XXX

Inside their modest bedroom, most of the space taken up by a double bed covered in a white crocheted spread, Frances nervously fingered the top of the memory box that lived on her nightstand. Though their bedroom was at the back of the house, the shouts from the crowd across the road still permeated through the walls.

"I'm sure they're good people, Norman," said Frances as she took a bobby pin out of her hair. "But are you sure it's a good idea for us to invite that girl over for dinner?"

"I'm very sure!" declared Norman, crossing his arms over his chest. "They're decent, hardworking people, just like us! If we don't set an example for our child in this backwards world, who will?"

"I hope you're right Norman, I hope you're right," mused Frances as she pulled the memory box onto her lap.

"You will see that I am honey," whispered Norman, giving his wife a small kiss on the forehead. "Anyway, it's my turn to cook tonight. I'm going to start making those hamburgers."

After Norman left the room, Frances opened the memory box, running her hands over the paper containing the robin's nest. Once upon a time before motherhood, life had been so much simpler.

XXX

On a balmy Indian summer night in September 1975, Melanie disappeared from her bedroom. Despite extensive searches of the woods in the park behind their home, the only trace the police ever found of Melanie was her white Mary Jane shoe covered in blood. With no tips coming in, the police eventually gathered the documentation and evidence of a presumed homicide into two small cardboard boxes that would sit gathering dust for decades in the basement of the main administration office in downtown Philadelphia.

XXX

While the police may have been content to let new cases capture their attention, Frances Campbell refused to give up hope her child would return home safe and sound. For twenty-three years, the only time Frances left the house voluntarily into the world that seemed to be permanently stuck on winter was on Melanie's birthday. Every May 6th without fail, Frances would stand on a street corner in downtown Philadelphia as she handed out fliers to passersby.

"Someone, somewhere, knows where Melanie is," Frances thought desperately. "Any one of these people seeing her picture could be the key."

XXX

"My God, Frances, it's 3am! What the heck are you still doing up on that confangled box?" asked Norman, rubbing his eyes sleepily on a cool night in May 1998. Several months before, Norman had purchased the computer for Frances, hoping online bridge games and searching for trinkets on E-Bay would help her move back into the real world.

"Getting Melanie's story out," said Frances, not taking her eyes away from the flickering screen. "Do you know how many websites are out there devoted to helping people like us find their missing loved ones? Maybe Melanie is posting on one of those sites. Or someone who has seen her will tell us where to find her."

"That's great, Frances," Norman mumbled, wanting to punch himself for only worsening his wife's obsession. "But you need to sleep. When Melanie does come home, she will want you to be well-rested."

XXX

After over thirty-one years without any leads, a postcard found in the home of a dead mailman who refused to deliver mail to African-American families on his route breathed new life into the Melanie Campbell case. The postcard, addressed to Melanie's best friend Cherice, was postmarked the day after Melanie disappeared. Bearing one short line in clumsy cursive letters, the card read: The trolls got me!

XXX

Shivering in the brisk November chill, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind, Philadelphia Homicide detective Lily Rush welcomed the warmth of the Campbell's living room as she took a seat on a hard white chair.

Reading the postcard through a Ziploc bag, Frances' hands trembled as she read, "The trolls got me!"

Staring at his wife's hair, red hair dye covering the gray, Norman clenched her hand.

"It was addressed to the door next door. Cherice Pierce," explained Lily, gesturing towards the house the Pierce family had once occupied.

Taking the postcard from Frances, Norman studied the faded pencil intently. "You think Melanie wrote that?" Norman asked, a draft blowing his wispy hair across his forehead as he pulled on his brown rimmed reading glasses.

"Well, possibly," said Lily. "Could the trolls have meant something?"

A smile crossed Frances' face as she remembered long spring play sessions before Melanie had started school.

"Melanie was always going on about fairies, and trolls and fireflies," explained Frances, waving a hand in the air. "Quite an imagination!"

Her own memories of the world she had created to escape the cold apartments filled with cockroaches and mice that had marked her childhood in Kensington creeping up, Lily felt a quick smile break across her face.

"But it was just child's talk-" said Frances, becoming serious.

"Melanie did not write this," blurted out Norman, his blunt words reminding Lily and Frances he was still in the room.

"How do you know?" asked Lily.

"Well, she'd just started the third grade and she didn't know cursive," explained Norman, handing the yellowed postcard back to Lily.

"Course Melanie wrote that, those are her words!" admonished Frances, staring at her husband in disbelief.

Taking off his reading glasses and placing them in the pocket of his sweater, Norman took a deep breath before turning to confront his wife. "But anyone who heard her playing would have known them!"

"Who wrote it, then?" demanded Frances, her gray eyes becoming hard as she stared at her husband.

"Well, maybe the person who took her," said Lily, trying to keep her voice gentle and even.

"What kind of monster would do a thing like that?" asked Frances, her glare not softening as she transferred her gaze to Lily.

Beside Frances, Norman began studying the worn floor rug beneath his feet, flinching at the wound his wife was reopening and pouring salt into.

"That what I'm here to find out, Mrs. Campbell."

"So, you'll find Melanie, too?" asked Frances, her eyes sparkling as her face become animated.

"Oh, Frances," mumbled Norman.

Frances felt her gray eyes become hard at the cold gray pebbles that had once surrounded the robin's nest on her bookshelf fifty-nine years before.

"She is alive!" declared Frances.

Eying Frances' face, Lily hated the dagger her next statement would inflict on Frances' heart. "It's—it's been thirty-one years," said Lily gently.

"I don't care if it's a hundred-and-thirty-one years," said Frances, her shaky voice the only clue of the hurt Lily's words had exacted. "Melanie is out there!"

As Frances turned her eyes away from Lily and Norman, Norman got up from the white couch he and Frances were sitting on.

"Can I walk you out?" offered Norman, giving Lily a desperate glance.

Anxious to escape outside and begin working on bringing closure to the Campbell family, Lily gave Norman a brisk nod as she got up and followed him out of the living room. As Lily and Norman retreated outside, both felt Frances' hard eyes glaring at them.

On the hard concrete of the Campbell's front walk, Norman and Lily shivered as the cold November air blew through their clothes. Lily's numb hands struggled to keep a grip on the leather black cover that contained the postcard.

Staring at Lily, Norman tried to keep his boiling emotions from erupting as he said, "We are prisoners in this house, because my wife believes our daughter is going to walk through that front door!"

"Just thought you should know we're reopening the case," explained Lily, eying Norman's tortured face.

"All I want is to bury my child," confessed Norman, his voice growing softer as his eyes began to glisten with unshed tears.

"I understand."

Biting his lip as he looked back to the house his wife would now refuse to leave once again for days on end, Norman gave Lily a curt wave before demanding, "Then bring her home!"

XXX

While Lily's words had momentarily deflated her, Frances turned her anger into action as she fired up her computer to update the website she had created for Melanie several years before. Before pounding out the latest news about her daughter, France's eyes drifted to the robin's nest she now kept on display atop the computer desk. For the first time in thirty-one years, she had proof that her daughter had been alive beyond the date of her disappearance. And someone, somewhere, held the answer that would transform the longest winter of her life back into springtime.


	20. The Bitter Kitten

Author: The Bitter Kitten

Fandom: Boardwalk Empire

Claim: Owen Sleator

* * *

><p>Life is so much more simple when you're dead.<p>

All of the big, hard questions like, "What do I want to do with my life?", Where do I want to live?, and "Will I be alone forever?" answered definitively, unchangeably, permanently until the end of time.

You exist in this house, with every other human that died here, until there's nothing left of the world but scorched rock and dust.

Sometimes Violet wished the end would hurry up and get here. 30 years had passed since she moved into Murder House, since she had taken a bottle-full of downers and died in a ghost's arms. Families had come and gone, and the lights and water flickered on and off through the years. It had been a while since they were on, she couldn't remember how long. They weren't strictly necessary, but the plod towards oblivion and the innate darkness of the house threatened to consume her whole when there wasn't Netflix or NYTimes. Time seemed to meld into one interminable, boring day.

It was long enough that all the bickering and plotting within the house and the steep divide between the tenants had gradually dissolved into apathy; the thick and sucking mud of resentment and grief and plain old personality clash had slowly dried into a cracked and arid wasteland of nothingness and couldn't-give-a-shit. They all milled about; they were waiting for a train that was never coming. Nora stopped appeariang around the house until Halloween, and even then she only sat out on the veranda, wishing for her baby, what the infantata used to be. Hayden and Vivien circled like dogs for a while, but eventually time wore them down and they found themselves warily drinking coffee together around the kitchen table. The unfortunate souls, the collateral damage (the exterminator; Gladys and Lorraine; the twins; Larry's little girls and his wife; Beau) all winked out, one by one, not to be seen for years on end, until she couldn't remember how long ago she'd seen any of them. Violet found herself on the same path. There would be times when she'd go to a dark, nameless place. It was hard to see and hard to move and the world shrank down to the sound of her breathing and force-of-habit heartbeat. She'd stay there for a while, until it felt like a wet, heavy blanket lifted and she opened her eyes again. Years would have passed, and it always took some doing to find the other ghosts afterwards.

Even she and Tate had reached a truce. It was five years ago now, twenty-five years since she had first wished him away. He'd popped up right in front of her in the hallway and wouldn't let her pass again . First he towered over her, fingers digging into her small shoulders, demanding redemption, keen as the first time so many years ago. Then he was on his knees, supplicant, clutching her thighs like a lost little boy, begging for her mercy. She was going to tell him to go away again, as she had hundreds of times before, but as she was calling up the rage needed to truly mean it; the hurt and horror, there wasn't any there. Oh, sure, the memories remained. She knew that he had slaughtered a high school library-full of people on a coke-fueled bid for suicide-by-cop. She knew he murdered Chad and Pat in cold blood for Nora. She knew he'd raped her mother, for Nora, again. But it was dim now, behind a window caked with ash. It was a book of old fairy tales that happened so long ago they might as well have never happened at all. She didn't care enough anymore. Besides, she was lonely. She missed him, missed those precious few months before she knew, when he was just a boy who showed her his scars.

"Get up, Tate."

He squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the rending, tearing wind of the curse to take him back to hell.

"I said get up, Tate, not go away." Her voice had been gentle.

He paused, still braced. He met her eyes, never looking younger or more lost in all the times he'd appeared to her. His bouncy blonde curls had framed dark eyes that were filled with tears and wonder. She'd smiled. "I forgive you," she'd whispered.

Though she'd forgiven him, she hadn't been keen on picking up where they'd left off. They had only just begun to flirt again. She'd find flowers on her desk and love letters on her chalkboard, and she'd leave a note here or there, a scavenger hunt that always led to her bed. It was fresh and new this time around; no talk of scars or encroaching darkness. They were made entirely of scar tissue now, consumed whole by the night, all of them, and the draw was the light they could find in each other.

Time spent with him was like rereading her favorite book; there were no surprises anymore. She knew all there was to know, and the experience was enjoyable just the same. She held his hand, nestled against his chest, breathing him in, and eternity here in this house didn't seem quite so bad.

It was early February, and it was cold. Not a Boston winter, which she had the faintest memory of, but it was drab and a chill that wasn't ghosts crept through the house. Wind howled through the cracks that appeared. On Valentine's Day, a chipper saleslady in a cheap pink skirt suit and 4-inch heels pulled up in a VW Bug. Everyone was bored without any link to the outside world, so they let her poke around, content to watch. She must have sensed them, because she didn't stay long at all, refused to go in the basement, and crossed herself twice before she ran out the door.

A few days later, a team of redecorators slapped new coats of paint on all the walls, except the chalkboard paint in Violet's room. They dusted the giant, ropey cobwebs from the high corners of the ceilings, and polished the hardwood floors until they shone.

The House watched; they waited. The lights flickered on, and the taps ran with clear water.

It was like blood in her veins, again. She felt closer to being alive.

Group by group, people trickled through. All the deaths had happened so long ago, there wasn't any reason for them to be scared. During open houses, they'd all mill about, fully visible, playing parts to amuse themselves. Ben and Vivien and Violet made up the perfect family, if they were out-of-date fashionwise. Tate and Violet were lovestruck teens daydreaming about a future. Hayden and Travis were ingenues- waiting to make it big, trying to live like they already had. Hayden and Vivien were girlfriends, making the worst mistake of their life. Chad and Pat just took notes, redecorating before they'd even heard the price.

Every other open house, they'd nick a tablet there, a cell phone here. Convenience overshadowed security, and almost every one they stole had banking information clear as day. Online shopping brought new technology in. A modem, a router. A big-screen plasma. A Keurig coffeemaker. Laptops for everyone. They switched accounts when fraud protection froze them, subtly directed police officers away from the basement when they came to check the address.

They were almost alive again. The House and all the ghosts inside bloomed like crocuses in icy snows.

The house finally closed, less than a quarter of the asking price. They all took bets on who it was, as the realtor lady slapped a "sold" sign on with a sidelong look at the house, and they waited.

The lady was old. Very old. She was small and cowed, with a spine deformed by osteoporosis and coarse, wiry shocks of white hair in stiff hair salon curls. With her was a devastatingly handsome young man who looked around with calculating eyes and seemed to see all of them, even when they chose not to be seen. It took the lady ages, but she climbed every step and set herself gingerly down on the new bed in the master bedroom.

"Moira, fetch me a glass of water, and be quick about."

The former maid snapped to attention and looked more closely. Yes, there was the proud jawline, the thin, sneering lips.

Constance had come home.


End file.
